


Land of Milk and Honey

by fowo, ThisisVenereVeritas



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/pseuds/fowo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas/pseuds/ThisisVenereVeritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t want paradise to be handed to him, he wanted to possess it all on his own. As long as he had Utopia within his sights, it didn’t matter how it came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Fowo and I did a thing! We worked really hard on it and I hope ya’ll like it, otherwise you’ll be breaking two hearts instead of one. Oh yes, and this story debuts reptilianship, a terrible idea by Fowo.

The weather wasn’t entirely overcast, but there were enough gray clouds scattered across the sky, adding to the increased humidity that already surmounted the summer island. Though it had rained last night, in the air hung invisible moisture; collecting, floating and gathering the pungent aroma of refreshed flowers, dwindling sunlight and after-rain dampness.

From all the way up the plateau were the faint smells of Green Bit, traveled several miles southward, a result of the weather combined with the fertile winds working to pollinate and keep the island it’s delightful overabundance of exotic fruitfulness. Even with the stone walls of the castle surrounding him, Crocodile could feel the energy of the country assault him with its presence.

 _Everything_ was wet. He hadn't even been here a day and already he felt soaked to the bone. It was always deeply unsettling at first; the knowledge of how the wet air would eventually trap him inside his body—something that, Crocodile thought, must have been what every normal human felt like, but for a Logia such as him his body was just another shape amongst many. But already he could feel the entrapment begin at his fingertips, smothering him where he pushed them against the cold film of condensation on his glass. The water stuck to his skin, oozing in between the ridges of his fingerprints. He tried wiping it off on his pants, but even that did nothing; he was sweating beneath his clothes.

In every other scenario it would’ve been so easy to sneer at the scene: a light dinner, with fish and vegetables and salad, to go with a chilled white wine. Easy to digest in these temperatures. Doflamingo was _really trying_ today, wasn't he? Not that Crocodile could blame him; after accepting his invitation to come by, and Crocodile actually showing up despite Doflamingo mentioning _this exact date_ , it was to be expected.

And yes, usually Crocodile would tease him for being so obvious. But he’d been in this country for a few hours now, trapped in his physical form, and yet he felt all annoyance begin to diminish. One might suggest it had something to do with the atmosphere, but Crocodile knew better. He knew the weather was entirely to blame for his lack of irritation; the developing feeling inside of him instead coming closer to enthusiasm or curiosity.

With the rains came new life, taking the form of vibrant flowers and flourishing greenery all over Dressrosa. While Crocodile was no plant, the weather’s effects already sank in, drenching him with peculiar, exhilarating spirits. It was reflexive of him to absorb any potentially threatening amount of water, but sometime between making harbor and now Crocodile hit his limit, and his body could no longer allow any more of the nutrient-dense atmosphere.

The air was still wet, and water continued to collect all over him, but Crocodile couldn’t bring himself to feel angered over this predicament. If anything annoyed him, it was that the moisture in the air that kept him trapped was also the reason behind his uplifting spirits. He was soaked in sweat and tiny confining droplets of water, and he yet he felt several years younger.

"I sincerely hope you don't treat all your guests like this," he said, resting the glass against his lips without drinking just to hide his smile. The wine was disgustingly sweet, but he couldn't bring himself to comment on it.

"What, you think I get a lot of guests? Please." Doflamingo was all legs as he leaned back, stretching out like a cat and lazily crossing his ankles. Crocodile watched carefully with bristling neck hair.

"I won't believe for a second that you have that patio and the pool just because they look nice," he said, fighting the smile that was curling his lips. "And since everyone in your family is an ability user, I really doubt you're using it much yourself."

"That’s highly intolerant of you, Crocodile. I have a little fishman to look after. Dellinger prefers the ocean but it's still better than nothing. The girls love it, too. You don't have to be _swimming_ to enjoy a pool." Doflamingo leaned forward again, tilting his head a little so he could peer over the slim frame of his shades. Already Crocodile wondered when he was going to put them away. This was one of the occasions where they would come off, he knew it. And not just the sunglasses. He could practically taste it.

"I should show you," he heard Doflamingo add. He snorted, and finally took a sip, feeling the cold wine  flow down his throat, pooling in his stomach. Wetness everywhere. He was surprised he didn't mind.

The comment, however, he did mind. He knew what Doflamingo was driving at. But it was still a little too early for that. No, not yet.

"I came for a nice dinner and the view, not a pool party," he said with a shrug, bringing his index finger behind the smooth silken ascot, loosening it a little. He was aware that Doflamingo was watching. He grinned and let him as he tugged it off.

"Well, and you got that," Doflamingo said after just a second to recollect himself. He raised his glass, peering at the wine inside before emptying it into his throat. Crocodile's smile didn't falter, but he narrowed his eyes a little at Doflamingo's admittedly expected tastelessness. "So what's in it for me?"

"Company way off your limits, as it would seem," Crocodile replied coolly, leaning back in his chair. Doflamingo kept grinning. Crocodile could see the white of his teeth shine, even in the dusky light on the veranda where they were sitting. "Besides, _you_ invited _me_."

"And you're a terrible guest and didn't even bring a gift," Doflamingo said in a mock whine.

"I got you me,"Crocodile replied. Doflamingo was dumbfounded for a solid eleven seconds before he burst into genuine laughter.

"Someone's in high spirits," he said, resting his chin in his hand. The grin had grown. Crocodile could see his gums.

"Isn't that precisely why you invited me over?" Crocodile twirled the last sip of wine around before emptying his glass, and Doflamingo was quick to give him a refill. That smug bastard. But Crocodile didn't object.

"Well, your mood was a lot fouler when you arrived," he said with a snicker, placing the wine bottle back down to the table.

"Don't play dumb, it might just annoy me," Crocodile growled, taking another sip of wine. It actually tasted rather good, thinking about it. Cool and refreshing. It was nice against the heat. He felt hot. "I know why you wanted me here right in the middle of June."

"And still you showed up," Doflamingo said with an almost tender smile. He took his time today with wooing his favorite sandman, and it infuriated Crocodile. First fetching him from the port like a normal human being—humble words for a king—and showing him to his room, bringing his luggage up, giving him time to take a nap after the long sailing, and freshen up afterwards. Waking him with a gentle shake for dinner, all without climbing over and claiming him. He hadn't given him so much as a peck on the lips. Crocodile stared at him, admiring the perfect smile. He knew how soft these lips were, how delicious they were against his own, and how much he enjoyed them all over his body. Nobody but Doflamingo made him feel like this.

And Doflamingo knew that.

Crocodile covered his face with his hand for a moment. He felt the thin film of sweat on his body. He tried shifting his form, and found that he couldn't. He was trapped inside himself. Doflamingo had laid the most effective chain around him, and Crocodile knowingly let him. He had allowed himself to walk into this trap.

He felt dense and full. Ironically, exactly that made a very specific emptiness inside him apparent.

He noticed Doflamingo's flustered grin, and the look of excitement on his face. He anticipated the glint in his eyes underneath the sunglasses. He wanted to scoff and comment on his neediness when he realized he had been playing with his lips all the time. Doflamingo was getting excited watching _him_.

He took the hand from his mouth and cleared his throat. He wished he wasn't wearing so many layers of clothes. He wished Doflamingo would already make his move and strip him. But Doflamingo just watched.

Crocodile's erection pressed against the fabric of his pants. He felt so trapped. All of him, Logia and human, wanted out now. Everything was so sticky.

He craved Doflamingo so much.

He bared his teeth—he wasn't sure if it was a smile or something more sinister—and then licked his lips. He noted his glass of wine was empty. Had he finished it? Had he absorbed it absent-mindedly? What a waste of perfectly fine wine that would have been. But he couldn't remember. He wasn't even sure if he could still do it.

Doflamingo saw to it that he got another refill. Crocodile downed his third glass in one gulp like water. He didn't even flinch.

Doflamingo chuckled. “Another glass? At this rate you’ll end up drunk.”

“You’d certainly like that, wouldn't you?” Crocodile lowered his glass, eyeing Doflamingo with feigned irritation.

Doflamingo read through his deceptive stare and laughed. “Far from it, actually.” He set the bottle on the table, hand shaking with increased anticipation. “I’d much prefer you remain as you are now.”

The sight of the remaining wine swirling inside, trapped within its confinements, made Crocodile realize how thirsty he’d become. He licked the inside of his lips and immediately understood. Any other situation and Doflamingo would’ve enjoyed watching him fall into a drunken stupor. Refreshing as it might taste, both men were well aware of the effects alcohol had on the body. Doflamingo didn't even need to say it; the satisfied smirk, accompanied with lifted brows and twisting fingers said it all.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Crocodile muttered. His fingers drummed against the glass.

Doflamingo grinned at him. "Tremendously," he said smoothly. "This is amazing to watch. I don't even have to do anything. This is all you. When will you begin to dry hump the table?"

This time Crocodile grimaced, he was sure of it. "I know you won't believe it but I am still capable of reason, even like this." He leaned back, leaving the glass be. He thought of himself as cool and collected, but that stupid grin on Doflamingo's lips told him otherwise. And still he wasn't doing anything. Crocodile inhaled deeply. He was craving a cigar; dry, rough, burning earth inside of his lungs. He stared at Doflamingo, who eagerly stared back. Still with the sunglasses on his face, too. Crocodile made a face. "Take them off already."

"Hmm?" Doflamingo touched the temple of his shades lightly. "Why?"

"The sun's already down, and it's not like anybody but me is here to see. I want to see your eyes when I'm talking to you."

" _Talking_ , huh?" Doflamingo chuckled, removing them from his face and folding the temples, carefully placing them down on the table. They looked at each other. "Better?" he asked.

"Better." Crocodile allowed himself to let his gaze linger on Doflamingo's face, studying his features; lips, nose, eyes, brows... They didn't see each other that often now, maybe two, three times a year, and whenever they did, there were noticeable changes about them. Doflamingo was younger than him, but already Crocodile could tell the wrinkles around his smile and between his brows were there to stay. He was wearing his hair shorter now, too. Crocodile liked it this way.

Doflamingo's chuckle once again woke him from his reminiscing. "Like what you see?"

Crocodile looked him dead in the face. "Very," he said, grinning when Doflamingo turned visibly flustered by his comment. "I like the short hair," he added nonchalantly. "It suits you. Consider even cropping it, maybe."

"Yeah?" Doflamingo pushed his slender fingers through his hair. His skin was like burnt sugar next to the golden color. Being away from North Blue had been good on him. He looked good on a summer island. He looked good. Very good. Crocodile liked looking at him.

"Then there's nothing left for you to grab, though," Doflamingo teased.

"Don't worry, I'll find something else." Crocodile was pleased when Doflamingo laughed.

"I love the rainy season," he chuckled.

Crocodile shrugged. "Don't get used to it."

"Oh, never! It wouldn't be as amazing if I expected it to happen, right?" Doflamingo leaned far back into his seat. Crocodile watched as he spread out, head facing the clouded sky, his gigantic smile the only visible part of his face. “You’ve declined past invitations to my kingdom during this time of the year so many times, I almost didn’t want to believe it when you said you’d consider showing.” His head moved forward, enough for Crocodile to catch a lustful stare directed at him. “Even now, with everything set so perfectly, I wonder what I might have done to deserve you actually being here.”

Crocodile snorted a little through his nose. Without any wine to nurse on, he felt restless. He fought the urge to play with the tablecloth. He noticed the white lace was starched. This was ridiculous; he could not recall Doflamingo tending to such delicate details ever before. The man was practically begging to get on his good side.

“This has nothing to do with rewarding you,” he said eventually, gaze rising again to look Doflamingo in the eyes.

“Oh no?” Doflamingo raised his eyebrows a little. Crocodile wondered if his face hurt from smiling, because he still hadn’t stopped. “Then what?”

“Rewarding myself,” Crocodile answered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest when Doflamingo laughed again. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, no! I believe you. It’s just…” Doflamingo failed to try and hide his grin behind his hand and gestured vaguely at Crocodile. “All of this is really hard to believe. I mean you _told_ me it would happen, but experiencing it is something else entirely. I’m lucky to bear witness to this.”

“You’re making too big of a deal out of this,” Crocodile muttered.

“You realize on a normal day you don’t even let me shower with you, right? And now to have you here… How many times have you refused to come over during rainy season? Well, I’ve been in this country for about four years… So three times at least, right? And that’s not counting all the years before.”

“I suppose,” Crocodile said. “But even like this I won’t apologize for past actions.”

Doflamingo waved his hand at him again. “This more than makes up for it. It feels like it’s my birthday. I kind of wish it was. Then I could make you come over with a solid reason.”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I wouldn’t cancel plans and sail all the way over here just to see you on your birthday.”

“Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, Croc.” Doflamingo’s grin softened. It made something in Crocodile’s chest ache.

He shrugged, and then beckoned for Doflamingo to come closer with a curl of his index finger. Doflamingo happily obliged, taking his chair with him as he edged around the table. When they were sitting next to each other, Crocodile took his hand into his own. Doflamingo chuckled and watched Crocodile examine his hand, rubbing against the palm and sliding his fingertips over the carefully filed curve of his nails. The tip of his middle finger sat in the small bend of Doflamingo's joint of the wrist like it was made to be there. Doflamingo's hands were soft and well-cared for.

Doflamingo was still laughing when he took his hands away from Crocodile's. Doflamingo ignored the unhappy noise Crocodile made and gently cupped his face, rubbing his thumbs over the scar as he pulled him close for a tender kiss to his lips.

Crocodile closed his eyes and relaxed. _Finally._

* * *

 

The handholding was a bit much, not because Crocodile wasn’t used to the affectionate gesture, but there was something off-putting about being lead around the castle. Even in his current state his mind wouldn’t let go of the way he greedily clung to Doflamingo’s hand, rings rubbing against warm fingers, his own turning frantic from the stimulation.

The castle was dark and cool, a welcome change to the trapped Logia user. The drier air allowed for his body to expel some of the excess liquid and energy within him through means beyond excited movement or over-exaggerated gestures. He could sweat out all that water, rid of himself of the pesky neediness that was devouring him, and Doflamingo would enjoy every moment of it.

The name stayed in his mind longer than what he was willing to admit, though it didn’t take long for Crocodile to act on it. Doflamingo barely opened the door to his bedroom when Crocodile had him against the wall; hook pressed against his neck, hand on his exposed chest. It mattered little that Doflamingo had a layer of sweat, Crocodile grabbed and rubbed glistening skin, stopping the torment only when his craving for Doflamingo’s lips temporarily overwhelmed everything else.

He listened to Doflamingo’s chuckle get smothered by his lips, and felt the light vibrations of the man’s humming against his face go soft, stretching into muffled moans and hot exhales through the nose as Crocodile pushed for Doflamingo to part his lips and allow him further access.

There was the subtle taste of alcohol, flavor not as strong as Crocodile’s, and nothing compared to the natural sweetness his hungry mind produced when he had his way with Doflamingo. Though Crocodile was thirsting for Doflamingo’s mouth, his body, and his cock, he knew Doflamingo was craving something similar from him.Doflamingo gave hardly any fight and allowed him to rest his lips against his, suck on them, taste and lightly nip on them. And still, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was the nagging realization that if Doflamingo had ever kissed him like this, sloppy and wet and full of unconcealed desire, he’d have scoffed at him for it.But Doflamingo said nothing, and just bent his legs, welcoming Crocodile’s aggressive tongue and teeth, face radiating heat as Crocodile reached out, attempting to grab hair, missing, breath growing heavier, until the heat between them became near unbearable–

Doflamingo broke the kiss. “I know it’s getting late,” he huffed, bringing a hand to hover over his wetted lips. “But I’d rather not surprise any members of the family with the sight of us going at one another.” He lightly pushed Crocodile off of him and carefully took a step over to the opened door. “And if it’s alright with you, I’d rather have you acting like _this_ behind closed doors, for only me to witness.”

“Why am not surprised?” Crocodile remarked. “You were doing a fine job up until that last remark.”

“And you’re doing an amazing job making me weak in the legs,” Doflamingo teased, reaching out and taking the sleeve of Crocodile’s coat as a means of guiding him forward.

“You make it sound like that's a hard thing to do,” Crocodile said and shrugged off his coat so it fell to the floor and Doflamingo was left with nothing but the sleeve he held, and ignored his excited laughter and the bad pun about hardness as he walked on ahead into Doflamingo's bedroom.

Crocodile had been here before, of course. But he remembered the room being less airy, less welcoming. He couldn't say if that was because of his past state, or if it hadn't changed at all. The room wasn't so big, but the view over the flower fields was nice. The air smelled fresh and sweet. The cool draft coming from the opened windows felt like a blessing.

He heard Doflamingo close the door behind him, and the silent clicking of the turned key made him shiver in anticipation.

“Well,” Doflamingo said as he carefully placed the coat over the mannequin that usually held his own feather coat, the latter thrown away easily over the chair by the desk. “I would offer you a shower, it's been horribly humid all day after all.”

Crocodile laughed. “But you won’t?” It hardly sounded like a question.

Doflamingo approached him, his hands already fiddling with the topmost button. “With what we’ve planned, I’d hate to waste the water.” Crocodile felt the first button come undone, far too slow for his liking. He stared at Doflamingo’s adam’s apple as he spoke, watching it move, and found himself exceedingly envious of Doflamingo’s summery, open clothes. “You’re already drenched,” he heard Doflamingo add, “and while I admit this is fun to watch, I’d hate to lose control over this. Who knows what’ll happen?"

“What makes you think you’re in control to begin with?” Crocodile asked, gaze slowly rising up to Doflamingo’s face.

Doflamingo stopped at the second button, grinning when Crocodile took notice and brought his hand up to continue the strip. Crocodile glared at Doflamingo’s smirk, his fingers fumbling over the second button, then third. His eyes never left Doflamingo’s, not even when his finger caught caught between button and hole, and then finally Doflamingo grew satisfied, under the assumption that he’d proven his point, and reached out to aid Crocodile.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this excited,” he commented.

Crocodile appreciated Doflamingo’s hesitation to not remark on his own desperate behavior. Though it mattered little. He knew he was still in control and could leave at any moment if he so desired.

Crocodile blinked, feeling a pleasant ache situate and rest in his lower abdomen as cool air began to settle on his chest when Doflamingo finally opened his shirt. Doflamingo undid the knot on his leather belt, and making a show of letting his form fitting pants slide off brought Crocodile out of his calm. The laugh that came from Doflamingo as he danced his way out of his clothes reminded Crocodile that this, were it taking place in another setting, would normally result in him providing unnecessarily cruel commentary.

Right now all he could focus on was the way the light hit Doflamingo’s hip bone just right, and the stretched out form exposing and emphasizing every muscle on his slim body.

“Enjoying the show?” Doflamingo asked, kicking off his slip-ons and pants, legs sticking out and falling under the same magical influence that made Crocodile all the more lightheaded.

Crocodile knew he could’ve said something cruel, or at the very least a backhanded compliment. Something to remind Doflamingo he still retained some control over his own behavior. But he lept forward, pushing Doflamingo on the bed, mouth all over the man’s jawline, hand pressed against the sternum, and hook sliding across the sheets.

He could have easily pushed Doflamingo’s legs open with just as much as a nudging of his hook. Doflamingo was always so happy to oblige. But before he realized it, he was straddling his hips, huffing against Doflamingo’s delicious salty skin.

“I’ll take that as a very enthusiastic yes,” Doflamingo said into Crocodile’s ear. Once again, Crocodile gave no snide remark, and continued to move down Doflamingo’s neck, breathing turning throaty and more aggressive when he felt Doflamingo’s hands on his trousers. “Slow down. I don’t want you finishing before we’ve even started.”

Crocodile lifted himself up, staring down at Doflamingo, restraining a moan when he felt his pants getting pulled down.

“Still keeping up the act?” Doflamingo’s hand rested on top of Crocodile’s rear, thumb hooking over the elastic band, pulling and watching in amazement as Crocodile glared down at him, fighting all urges to just rip the underwear off himself and ride Doflamingo right then and there. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Doflamingo played on, letting his other hand slide over Crocodile’s lower stomach. “You’re harder than fucking sea stone.”

Crocodile brought himself up, resting on his knees, and stared at Doflamingo’s slender fingers and the way they rubbed over his covered arousal and buttocks. It was driving him half-insane to still have so many layers of clothes on. “No wonder you’re taking so damn long with pleasing me,” he teased, but his tone carried the snark he had not bothered with up to now.

“Excuse me?” Doflamingo snickered.

Crocodile dipped his head down. “You said something about being weak in the legs,” he remarked, nearly biting his own lip as he hovered over Doflamingo’s, “but I didn’t think I’d have that much of an effect on you. But then, sea stone has a tendency to have lesser users go... _limp_.”Crocodile let his stare lower, down to where he was sitting. And he made sure Doflamingo took notice. He kept his eyes locked in place, letting a cruel chuckle escape his lips until he felt Doflamingo grab his arm.

The chuckle turned into laughter as Doflamingo threw Crocodile off of him, laughing in tandem, turning near hysterical as he swapped positions with Crocodile, now with him on top, Crocodile trapped underneath. Crocodile welcomed it. Between the weather and his clothing, what was one more to add to the list? Doflamingo held his left arm down, doing away with the hook as quickly as he could while Crocodile stared up, breathing temporarily speeding up at the jarring feel of his prosthetic being removed.He looked over and watched Doflamingo carefully place the hook on the side of the bed, just out of his reach. He was still looking at it when he felt Doflamingo’s mouth return to his neck, laying a few kisses before settling and lightly biting down.

He moved his head back, catching a glimpse of blond hair moving down as Doflamingo kissed and licked his way down from his throat to his collarbone. There was still the occasional chuckle coming from him, and when Crocodile lazily raised his hand to sprawl his fingers through the short hair, he wondered exactly which of them was more frantic.

“We’ll see about that,” Doflamingo muttered.

“Hmm?” Crocodile moved his head a little to squint at him. With Doflamingo over him like this, hands wandering eagerly all over his body, and a knee between his thighs, it was beginning to feel like the desire that was eating him up was going to be sated. He raised his hips a little, resulting in a little friction against Doflamingo’s leg, and at this point didn’t even try to hide the soft moan.

Hearing that, Doflamingo raised his head, grinning up to Crocodile, fingers still running gently through his hair. “I’m going to fuck you,” he announced, “ _So good_.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Crocodile answered, and because he knew Doflamingo would break out into another crazy fit of laughter, smothered Doflamingo’s mouth with his own, hungrily devouring his voice.

 

* * *

 

Crocodile rested on his side, letting the sheets dry any remaining moisture from his body. Doflamingo wasn’t so clingy tonight, giving him the freedom he needed to shift in the sheets, spreading his arms and legs and ridding himself of excess sweat.

The energy that once possessed him dwindled down to a mild flame. He was exhausted, tired and satisfied after intense fucking.After getting rid of a good deal of moisture inside of him, the restlessness from before was ceasing; what remained now was a tranquility that was maybe even more uncharacteristically for him. Already his previous state felt so distant, and although he had very clear memories of Doflamingo trying v _ery hard_ to help him sweat it all out again, it felt like it had happened ages ago. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since Doflamingo had fallen asleep beside him.

Outside, there was a break in the massive sea of clouds, allowing some moonlight to shine down and stretch into Doflamingo’s room. The windows were open, and the room was cool and dry. Without anything distracting his mind, Crocodile could see the colorful decorations that adorned the walls of his room. This wasn’t a king’s bedroom, but the paintings, sculpted walls and overabundance of flowers were just as overwhelming, even under the hood of massive clouds. Not even like this would Crocodile ever admit that, yes, he admired what Doflamingo had accomplished.

The curtains swayed with a breeze. Crocodile rested his stare on the way the fabric fluttered in the light wind. Was it Alabastan cotton?

Crocodile turned around. He sank into the soft mattress, staring at the way Doflamingo’s nose wrinkled in his sleep. It would rain tomorrow. The clouds were rolling in, and even though he couldn’t taste it, Crocodile knew by the time he awoke there would be moisture in the air, and he’d be in the same situation as before. Sometime between then and now, Crocodile carefully stretched out his hand and watched it turn to swirling sand. He exhaled gently as he turned it back to be his hand, curling the fingers into a fist. He was relieved to be back in control of himself, and yet…

“…why are you still awake?”

Crocodile blinked, turning his head up at the canopy and surrounding gentle curtains. “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. He sounded harsher than before, but still carried a hint of concern in his tired voice. “Go back to sleep.”

“C’mere,” Doflamingo grumbled. Crocodile sighed, feeling Doflamingo’s body wrap around him. Blankets moved, cool air continued to pour around him, and now Doflamingo was all over him, again. Crocodile made soft noises of complaint about being moved and the hassle of settling into the new position and sorting their limbs until they were comfortable, but eventually they settled. Doflamingo ran his fingers through his hair, expelling a sigh against his forehead before moving some more, and adding, “this was fun.”

“Mhmm.”Crocodile settled his forehead against Doflamingo’s chin. It wasn’t hard to tell just how much Doflamingo enjoyed this. Not only had he mentioned it repeatedly in what felt like every five minutes, but somewhere between ripping each other’s clothes off like they were teenagers again, switching positions _twice_ , and making him do and say things that were clearly influenced by Crocodile’s state, Crocodile had sort of gotten the idea.

“A real show,” Doflamingo whispered.

“Consider tomorrow your encore,” Crocodile muttered. He was tired and done for today. “Your country is in the middle of the rains.”

Doflamingo pressed his nose into Crocodile’s hair. “I could certainly do that,” he said. Crocodile’s eyes twitched as Doflamingo continued to shift around, taking advantage of Crocodile’s decreasing patience. “Then again, I might want to take you out tomorrow. Show you off while you’re at your best.”

“Your decision,” Crocodile coolly replied. “Doesn’t matter what the weather’s like tomorrow, I’m not about to mess around in public.”

“Or the following week?” Doflamingo sounded so damn hopeful.

Crocodile sighed and said nothing.

“You could always just stay, you know,” Doflamingo added.

Crocodile sighed again. “Really, Doflamingo?” He stared up, meeting with an eager stare. “We’ve done this before, what makes this any different?”

“Even during the dry season you have fun here,” Doflamingo replied. “And I’ve got you in a good mood.”

“Assuming my mood stays good, you’ll get to have me a few more days,” Crocodile muttered. “After that, I sail on.”

Doflamingo chuckled softly into Crocodile’s hair. “Well, I tried.” He nuzzled his head, earning a soft noise from Crocodile. “Are you in a hurry?"

“Not particularly,” Crocodile replied lazily, stretching out his legs with a yawn. Doflamingo lowered his hands to wrap them around Crocodile’s chest, keeping him close.

“But?”

Crocodile thought a little and concluded that telling Doflamingo wouldn’t matter much. “I’m going back to Paradise,” he replied, and left it at that, even when Doflamingo leaned back from their embrace to look at him.

“Had it with the New World?” Doflamingo chuckled, but Crocodile thought it sounded reluctant.

“Something like that,” he said.“I’ve business to take care of. Don’t think too much of it.”

Doflamingo settled back to the pillows. It was silent for a long time, so long that Crocodile thought he’d fallen back asleep, but he stirred again. “So,” he said softly, “will you be coming back next June?”

Crocodile thought he sounded pretty anxious. A long time ago, they had agreed they wouldn’t see each other much, and that it was okay like this. He quickly sorted through his plans for what was ahead of him. Finally he shook his head. “I can’t make such promises. You know what the Grand Line is like. Even with the Eternal Pose to Dressrosa there’s no saying how long the journey would take.”

“What about summons from HQ?” Doflamingo said as if any Shichibukai had ever paid _that_ much mind.

He chuckled. “Sure, we’ll see each other on summons,” he said with a smirk, raising his head a little to look at Doflamingo again. “Look, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  
It was an attempt to appease him when he leaned up for a tender kiss to Doflamingo’s lips, and Doflamingo accepted it, but even then there remained an uneasy feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

In the ancient desert kingdom of Alabasta, the people worshipped many gods. It wasn’t uncommon for Alabastans to assign earthly representations to the more celebrated gods, appointing holidays and city names after the beasts that traversed the country. To this day the jackal, roaming the desert in the shadows, and the falcon, surveying the lands from the skies under the sun, were the most prominent depictions on tapestry and artwork. There were others, of course: felines were sacred throughout history, and a family that kept a house cat was said to be prosperous and happy for as long as they looked after it. The hippos guarded the rivers, idle but relentless. Scarabs scuttled the dunes, unaffected by the heat, hidden from prying eyes.

In the reeds by the river there was another one, a predator the people were afraid of, but they also admired its strength and agility. Adapted to its surroundings and older than the desert itself, some considered it to be one of the strongest gods, and many worshipped it despite its aggressive nature, devouring cattle and endangering unheeding children playing by the banks. Statues and jewellery were made in its honor, giant paintings covered the walls of temples and crypts, hoping to appease its ravenous behavior and offer the promise of protection on the way to the afterlife.

God or not, the crocodile was one of Alabasta’s most feared and admired animals, and when the man bearing its name came to their country, people appeared to welcome him with open arms.

Only secretly, many were wary. After all, Shichibukai or not, he was a pirate, and they watched him carefully as he settled in a hotel in Erumalu, making the owner throw out all the guests so he had all the rooms and services for himself. People thought it was outrageous, but the hotel staff managed his lavish lifestyle, the expensive clothes he ordered to be made, the food he ate, and remarked on how generously he tipped. Rumors spread of Crocodile’s extravagant spending habits and soon people were coming to Erumalu just to see him and, if lucky, do something for him that would make him pay them a short gaze, a nod, and maybe one of the shiny precious gold coins he kept on his person.

Word of the his stay reached the royal family just hours after he booked the entire hotel. While the country never suffered from a lack of funding, Cobra was, admittedly, one of those whose concern developed over the mention of him kicking out hard working citizens from hotels, local theatres, restaurants and the like. Even after discovering the growth in Erumalu’s revenue, a result of Crocodile’s extended stay, he tasked Pell to make occasional visits to see what the infamous pirate might be up to.

He reported of the Shichibukai visiting local watering holes, coming into contact with sacred beasts and treating them like lap dogs, earning a mixture of praise and spite from citizens who viewed the crocodile as a representative of their god. Like any pirate, he entered temples without consideration, staining the polished marble floors with his steps. But he admired the artwork, enough to ask of their origins and employ artists to devise something similar, though for what Pell couldn’t answer. Although he had citizens and regular staff removed from his presence, Cobra continued to receive news of him supplying surplus funds to anyone who entertained him, more than what a hundred men combined might provide. The king wasn’t sure what to make of the news, and asked his loyal messenger to continue observing the man.

Cobra assumed he would leave after a few days. Then a few weeks. Surely after this month? And then spring was gone, and with summer the weather turned more arid and intense, and fewer people were staying in Alabasta longer than what was necessary. Tourism began to decrease not only in Erumalu where Crocodile was staying, but also in Alubarna and the entire country. It was around this time, when Cobra had to consider temporarily raising taxes, that Pell returned with unusual news from his scouting. At some point Crocodile caught on to the spying and approached Pell, requesting a meeting with the king. His speech suggested he didn’t harbor any grudges for being surveyed without permission. Oddly enough, Pell described him as well-mannered, almost too dignified to be associated with the pirates that threatened the country’s ports.

With Crocodile’s popularity on the rise, Cobra figured it would be wise to have a word with him. Settled in a port town, he’d made a point of doing the job the World Government had enlisted him for, and made quick business of all pirates that had the nerve to even come near the coast. Cobra had to admit this single man was doing a better job at it than the royal army. Although he kept the pirates’ loot for himself, the people were talking positively about Crocodile, and his picture was in the newspaper almost daily. With every new article, the words describing him sounded more supporting.

Although many of the staff were concerned—Igaram begging him to allow him to meet with the pirate in his stead—Cobra invited Crocodile to Alubarna and into the Royal palace. He had the intent of settling all cumbersome issues aside, and allow his citizens the right to enjoy Erumalu without Crocodile’s influence at least for a day or two.

He tried not to make a big of a deal out of it, only because he wanted to express the calmness and professionalism he wanted his staff to show, but on the day of their official meeting Cobra felt uneasy. There was a lot at stake this Tuesday morning that Cobra was going to allow a pirate into the palace. He almost wished he could open the doors for Crocodile himself, instead of waiting for his staff to do it for him. He was left sitting with not much left to do but wait. Crocodile was fashionably late.

He came alone.

"The royal Shichibukai, Sir Crocodile," the guard announced, but before he could open the doors, Crocodile pushed them open himself.

Cobra thought he was prepared. Pell told him everything he knew, and he read the papers. But when his guest entered the throne room, hard heels clicking over white marble, it was like nothing Cobra could’ve anticipated.

Crocodile was huge. Much taller than him, and as if that wasn’t enough, his clothes made sure that everyone was put to their right place. They spoke of a wealth not many in this country had. Cobra was impressed against his will. The rings on his hand bore real gemstones. The giant hook was solid gold. What poor creatures gave their lives for his coat, Cobra couldn't begin to guess.

He forced a friendly smile to his lips as he welcomed the man. He got off the throne, walked down the steps towards him and pretended he didn’t see Igaram flinch.

“Sir Crocodile,” he said. “I’m so glad you could make it. Please, come with me… The throne room is not much good for talking. Let us sit together over some tea, that is more comfortable.”

Crocodile grinned and agreed with a curt nod. “The people speak highly of you,” he said. Cobra could hear him follow, whereas his own sandals made no noise on the floor. Behind that, with a little distance but their hands on their weapons, followed Chaka and Pell, with Igaram left behind to see that everything was in order while the king was gone.

“They speak highly of you, too,” Cobra said calmly as he opened the door to a side room where they could sit, waving to a maid to get them some tea.

“They do? Well. I suppose that makes us somewhat equal, then.”

Cobra turned to look at him. Crocodile grinned as he walked past him to sit down on one of the chairs. Pell and Chaka followed, each giving Cobra weary looks. Cobra followed to sit opposite and hear what the man had to say.

What Crocodile requested baffled him so much that he thought he hadn’t heard right. “You want to construct a casino?” he asked, lacing his fingers into each other in hoping he wouldn’t seem as tense as he felt.

Crocodile reclined to one side of his seat; his attention focused more on Chaka and Pell’s intense glares than on Cobra’s reaction to this startling news.

“Something along those lines,” he replied, shrugging just enough for the three to perceive, but not enough to suggest that he cared the least bit over what he was asking. “I visited Rainbase some time ago and noticed it’s conveniently located next to a thriving oasis. A casino would do fine in that location, as well as some restaurants, maybe even a few attractions. Alabasta’s main tourism is focused on the shore, it wouldn’t hurt to get people into the towns that are a little deeper into the desert as well.”

“I see,” Cobra said, frowning at the jaded-looking man. He supposed it was only natural that a pirate would be interested in making money, and through less than noble means. “Well, while I appreciate your honesty, I must regret to inform you the oasis is a natural habitat for the native banandile population. A construction site will not be possible.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Cobra frowned some more at his words, but Crocodile didn't let him speak. "I know what you're thinking," he said quickly, leaning forward. "And actually I would like to adopt these bananadiles."

Cobra couldn't begin to express his shock and confusion. "These are natural predators!"

"Yes, exactly. That’s why I'm sure you're well informed of the danger they are to your people. Actually, when I last visited Rainbase, various farmers complained to me about their cattle being eaten. And no farmer in the desert can afford to lose one cow, I'm sure you agree."

"Their voraciousness has been a problem in the past, yes," Cobra said reluctantly. “However—”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it is my understanding that some of your people view this animal as a representative for one of your gods.” Crocodile raised his hand, ridding Cobra of the opportunity to answer. Leaning back in his chair, he took his time before he continued, staring Cobra in the eye. "I would see to it that the animals are well fed, and oversee their breeding as well. They would thrive, all while not endangering anyone anymore. Everyone wins."

Cobra was confused by this proposal, and needed a moment to regain his composure. He stared at Crocodile and willed himself to relax, exhaling gently. "Why are you interested in the bananadiles?" he asked, as casually as possible.

Crocodile shrugged and proceeded to pull a cigar from a case in his coat. Cobra didn't bother to tell him what he thought of smoking. "Call it a hobby of mine," Crocodile answered with a grin, tucking the cigar between his teeth. It wasn't so much the scar across his face than his predatory grin that reminded Cobra of a crocodile at that moment.

“Since the casino will be built on…” Crocodile paused, bringing his lighter up to the cigar and igniting a small flame. Cobra waited patiently for him to light up, and did his best to not wrinkle his nose when the strong smell of the smoke flooded the air. “Right, _your land_ ,” he said, grinning at Cobra’s polite smile, “I intend to donate ten percent of my casino’s earning to your country’s funds.”

“You want us to accept gambling money?” Pell scoffed. “And from a pirate?”

“Pell,” Chaka said from behind Cobra’s seat, “calm yourself.”

Cobra raised his hand up, telling both guards to remain silent. Crocodile remained comfortably poised in his chair, legs crossed and hand resting on the giant hook. Cobra was relieved he didn’t take immediate offense to Pell’s remark.

“I appreciate this offer of yours,” he began, trying to sound as gracious as he could. “However, I take the concerns of my people rather seriously—”

“Of course you do,” Crocodile interjected, earning another sharp stare from Pell and Chaka. Cobra could feel their discomfort increase from behind. He brought his hands together, keeping silent and hoping they would do the same. “I’m aware that the weather has caused a decrease in tourism, and prices in several of your thriving cities have been raised.” He blew a thick trail of smoke in Cobra’s direction, seemingly by accident since he idly waved it away with his hand afterwards. “Ten percent of my earnings should ensure a drop in taxes, perhaps even permanently lowering the national average.”

Cobra chuckled nervously, astonished by the statement. Crocodile lifted a brow, but kept his steady smile. “My apologies,” Cobra replied. “It’s just, I find it remarkable that you would believe ten percent would result in a permanent drop in taxes.”

“I know it will.” Crocodile took his cigar from his mouth, flicking the ash on top of one of the small plates he’d been given by the maid for his tea cup. Cobra watched in hidden disdain as ash began to pile on the delicate silverware. “In fact, I’m so confident that I’ll permanently reduce this country’s tax percentage, that if it doesn’t I’ll sacrifice twenty percent of my loot to you and your family, _annually_.”

Cobra nearly lost grasp of his cup. “That’s more than what you give to the World Government,” he said. He felt Chaka grab his chair, the grip so tight that he heard the wood creak behind him. “I don’t understand why you would make such an offer?”

“If your casino is as successful as you claim it’ll be, then you’ll lose out on money,” Chaka said, finally breaking his silence. “And if it isn’t, then you’ll be giving away over a quarter of your loot to some government foundation.”

“Assuming he even keeps his word,” Pell snidely added.

“I have no problem signing a contract,” Crocodile replied. Once again, Cobra was about to reply to the pirate’s unbelievable statement, only to be stopped again, this time by the hook being risen from Crocodile’s lap. “As you said yourself, the people of this country think rather highly of me. While I’m not too fond of socializing with every passerby asking for an autograph, I will admit I’ve grown accustomed to living here.” He paused, taking up the cigar again, but only to roll it idly between thumb and middle finger. “I don’t plan on becoming a citizen,” he added finally, “or asking your family for military support, but I request you allow me long term residency, and in return I’ll continue to keep threats at bay and donate a small sum of my earnings.”

Cobra exhaled softly. He didn’t take pleasure in raising the taxes in several cities, and he didn’t look forward to the rest of summer, when temperatures rose to scorching levels, resulting in a decrease in not only tourism, but travel and other expenditures. He would have no choice but to raise costs on foods and luxuries. Even if Crocodile was absolutely wrong in his prediction, a ten percent donation of any kind would mean less burden on the citizens. It would be a few months before they would see the money, but the drop would mean less spending on water and traded goods. It would mean more time spent at home, and less out in the harsh summer sun. While taking money from a pirate wasn’t a favorable deed, Crocodile was no ordinary pirate. He _was_ working for the World Government.

And the people liked him.

Crocodile chuckled, bringing his hand and hook together. “You’re thinking about accepting my proposal.”

Cobra felt Chaka’s hand rest on his shoulder. “Sire, are you really considering his offer?”

“I am,” he admitted, staring directly at Crocodile. He was not fond that apparently Crocodile could read what he was thinking. “Not because I desire to see you fail, or even succeed for that matter. I believe in my country, its history and people.” He watched Crocodile turn his head slightly, looking almost amused by the response. Feeling unfazed, Cobra continued, “for a long time pirates were viewed as a threat to our wellbeing. But the people have grown to respect you, and even our various species of crocodiles act as though you are an equal amongst them. Perhaps you arriving and offering your hand in keeping this country prosperous, no matter how unorthodox, is a sign of change. A positive change that I’ll accept.”

“So you’ll accept my contribution?”

Cobra eyed Crocodile’s wide grin, his nose tickling when he caught sight of smoke seeping between the lips, about to expelled without any concern for those around the table. He reminded himself of the animal bearing the same name, and the god who sometimes took its form. It was a vicious creature, but despite its cruel demeanor, was also known for protecting the royal family, and offering fertility and wealth by bringing rain.

“I will,” he concluded with a quick nod. “And please, do not concern yourself with providing any of your personal treasures, should things not turn out as you desire. The gesture is more than enough.”

“Wonderful,” Crocodile said, standing up from his seat and offering his hand to Cobra. Several guards flinched, and a few had their hands hovering over their weapons. Pell took a slight step back. Chaka stared at the hand and grimaced.

Cobra ignored their less than satisfactory responses and followed Crocodile’s suite, slowly bringing himself up and taking his hand.

“Understand, even with my connections it will take a few months for me to establish the casino,” Crocodile said, still retaining his proud, _accomplished_ smile. To Cobra, it was the look of a man who just triumphed over a battle. “You can expect contributions in about six months time, unless you’d rather receive an estimated sum now?”

Cobra felt the man’s hand squeeze his rougher than he preferred. He supposed it was customary for a pirate, and returned a near honest smile. “Please, don’t worry about sending me anything earlier.”

Pell lightly coughed into his hand. Cobra turned and caught the slightly nervous look in his and Chaka’s eyes, and then remembered the other reason he invited the man to Alubarna.

“Regarding your stay in Erumalu,” he hastily began just as Crocodile released his grip, “while you’ve taken care to assure that everything is well paid for, my citizens would appreciate it if you’d consider offering just a few floors in our hotels? Maybe a few tables to any of the restaurants you visit?” It was barely more than a suggestion as Crocodile pushed his chair in, looking ready to leave the room.

“I suppose access to the ground floor wouldn’t be terribly out of the way,” Crocodile muttered as he made his way to the door. Cobra couldn’t see the look on the man’s face, but he sounded like he was considering his side of the offer.

“It would mean a lot to the citizens who think so much of you,” he said, following Crocodile to the door. Guards moved from their previous spots and hurried to open the door for the impatient looking pirate. “Aside from that, is there anything else I might be able to help you with, before you take your leave?” Cobra added, out of sheer politeness, and without really thinking there was anything else Crocodile would want from him. So he was surprised when Crocodile stopped right in front of him, turning slightly.

“If it isn’t much to ask,” Crocodile began, carefully. “I would like to look around the palace.” Already several guards shared a suspicious glance with one another. “A supervised tour,” he added, paying little mind to everyone’s uneasy look. “I find the ancient architecture rather admirable, and this palace is a work of art I’d like to get familiar with, if you don’t mind.”

While everyone was uncomfortable with the idea, Cobra saw this as yet another opportunity for change. “You’re interested in the building?” he asked, pleased by the unexpected sign of interest in his country’s history. “Of course,” he added, his welcoming tone just enough to ease a few guard back into attention. “There is much to tell about this palace, it’s several hundreds years old. I’ll have Igaram show you around—”

“I would much rather have you lead the tour,” Crocodile interrupted. “You and your fellow guards have grown comfortable with my presence.” He grinned a little. “I am a pirate after all.”

Cobra turned to Pell and Chaka. Neither looked terribly comfortable with the idea, but all three knew there was some truth to the remark. And Cobra guessed that more time spent with the pirate might result in a better temperament.

“It would be a pleasure,” he said, giving in to yet another demand.

Crocodile seemed pleased. “After you,” he said, stepping aside to let Cobra pass. Cobra nodded a little as he walked past him, and could feel Crocodile’s gaze bore into him as he went ahead.

* * *

 

Nico Robin waited in the suite of the hotel Crocodile had more or less bought for his overnight stay in Alubarna. As so often, she had her nose buried in a book as he arrived, and looked up with a slight smile in the corners of her mouth. “Find anything?” she asked calmly.

“Not in the palace.” Crocodile threw his coat over a rack and loosened his ascot a little. “I know a lot about how reeds are used to make paper now, though.” He made a face.

Robin chuckled. “Paper has a long history in Alabasta,” she said, taking up her book again. “And I’m not surprised about the poneglyph not being out in the open. Alabastans would have their history recordings in crypts—”

“Spare me the history lesson, Nico Robin,” Crocodile sighed, walking over to the bar to get what he felt was a much deserved glass of whiskey. “Despite telling that old fool, I _really_ am not interested.”

“Of course, boss.” She was still smiling as he took up his glass to drink a sip and watch her carefully. She didn’t seem to mind that every now and then, he would stare at her. She was about half his age, and just because of her little talent her bounty was almost as high as his had been before it was frozen. He knew a little bit about her history… It hadn’t been easy to track her, but once he realized he would need her to decipher Pluton’s whereabouts, he made that his mission. Ironic that of all people, Doflamingo’s well-constructed net of human trafficking had helped. Recruiting her had been child’s play after this; once he offered her protection, she agreed willingly. She was a good subordinate to have around; she was obedient, level-headed and her powers weren’t too shabby either.

“I’ve been given the go-ahead for construction,” Crocodile said, taking a seat across from her.

“I’ll make the necessary calls,” she replied, not lifting her eyes from her book. “Speaking of which, I’ve a message for you.”

“Hmm?” Crocodile placed his glass on the table. “Don’t tell me there’s a problem this early in the process,” he threatened tiredly.

“Of course not,” she coolly replied. She closed her book and rested it on her lap. Crocodile noticed her stare rest on his glass and on the gathering condensation from the ice. “Your pirate friend from Dressrosa called a few hours ago.”

Oh, right… Between gathering information on the landscape, earning the citizens’ favor and setting up the appointment with Cobra, all of which had to be done while appearing as guiltless and well mannered as possible, it had completely slipped Crocodile’s mind to relay the news to Doflamingo that he wasn’t going to the next scheduled government meeting. Oh well. He would live another few months. Ruling a country and an underground business would keep him busy enough not to get _too_ nosy.

“Sir?”

Crocodile sighed. “What is it?”

“Would you like to read his message?” Robin asked, pulling from her coat a folded sheet of paper.

Crocodile stared at the note, his disinterest apparent as he took it while slowly shaking his head. He unfolded it and skimmed the few lines, more impressed with Robin’s handwriting than the demands Doflamingo laid out for him. Of course he’d reach Doflamingo, when it was at his convenience. Crocodile set the paper down on the table, lifted his drink and placed the glass on top of it.

He caught Robin staring.

“Invigorating,” he remarked sarcastically. “But we’ve more important matters to attend to, and only so much time to plan. I’d rather spend my time scheming the next few steps of my project, instead of listening to him bicker over missing a useless meeting.”

“He didn’t seem very understanding when I explained you were meeting with the country’s leader,” Robin said, taking the book back in her hands.

“I’ve been withholding certain details from him once Operation Utopia was initiated.” Crocodile crossed his legs and turned his attention to the open window, catching the magnificent sight of the city’s nightlife.“Despite his good intentions, he can be quite the hindrance, and I expect you to do your best to inform him of my whereabouts as little as possible.”

“Understood,“ Robin answered, returning to her book. Her graceful and collected movements, all of which hinting that she harbored no fears or private inhibitions toward him, were irritating.

Crocodile continued to stare out the window while the day’s meeting with the king played in his mind. He’d let some of his cruel nature slip between the cracks, enough to test Cobra’s patience with him. He got in his way, was rude, even interrupted the king mid-speech, and got away with it. The moment with the servants was the break from the usual passive behavior he was hoping to exploit from the king, but he supposed what he gathered from Cobra was more than enough for a first meeting. Testing and pushing the man’s limits was never intended to be quick, though Cobra was proving less difficult than he imagined.

Altogether, it went really well. Maybe a little better than he had suspected. Maybe Cobra wasn’t as much of a king as his citizens made him sound, or maybe Crocodile was just lucky. But to get this much in only one meeting was very promising. And not just the location for the future Baroque Works’ hideout—because who in their right mind would ever search inside a pond inhabited by bananadiles?—but also a fundamental step in securing his position as a political person in this country. By funding the king he was becoming more or less imperative to him. The weather, he knew, would only get worse, after all… And Crocodile had hoarded enough money to be able to afford this. It pained him a little to give it away, but it was mostly a deposit he would pick up again later, with interest.

And he would be getting bananadiles. He wouldn’t admit it to Robin’s face, but that was actually rather important to him. What a wonderful coincidence, to be in this country, full of sand, keeping a secret weapon hidden, and bear the name of a sacred animal. After all these long years, fate finally seemed to be favoring him.

Reaching for his drink, Crocodile moved and caught sight of the palace’s rooftops, the gold plating near blinding at this hour. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the glass as he stared at the magnificent architecture that was of walking distance from the hotel. It still seemed so far off, but the palace was within his sights now, and in a few years it would belong to him. Not just the palace, or this city, but the _entire_ country.

Finally, he chuckled. “The fool has no idea what I have planned.”

“The king, or the pirate?” Robin asked.

Crocodile grinned, taking his glass and raising slightly in her direction. “Exactly,” he replied.

Robin’s stare turned curious, watching the way cool drops of water coating his glass began to diminish, as though they were evaporating right off the glass.


	3. Chapter 3

In retrospective, it wasn’t so wise to begin constructing during the hottest months Alabasta had to offer. Progress was slow, and Crocodile grew impatient. But he told himself to bide his time, and that there was no reason to rush. All of this was a carefully laid out plan, and he accounted for about four years for taking over the country, give or take a few months. Some things would be quicker—Cobra being so cooperative sped things up—and some took their time, like actually building Rain Dinners. But altogether, he was incredibly pleased.

Everything worked out perfectly. He was giving his money away with both hands, and his construction site created jobs during the hot summer. Workers and their families now lived in Rainbase, and people were coming to the oasis to witness what he was doing. Critical voices were slowly but surely drowned out by praise.

People _loved_ him.

By the end of August he reached the point where there always was a crowd of people outside of his hotel, hoping to get a look at him. The ground floor he’d generously released of his ownership was permanently booked by those who admired him. He couldn’t leave anymore without people assaulting him. It resulted in him leaving via back doors, or not going himself at all and sending Robin in his stead. It was one reason why he couldn’t wait for Rain Dinners to be completed, to finally be alone again. While he greatly enjoyed his influence on people, the loss of privacy affected him. Newspaper articles were one thing, but the _tabloids_...

To think there would be people who could get on his nerves more than Doflamingo.

Rain Dinners was completed just in time for his fortieth birthday. And it did feel a little like a gift, although one he provided himself. He took all his belongings and moved, taking some of the hotel staff with him. Compared to the royal palace, Rain Dinners was rather modest, but he enjoyed the spacious rooms, the giant windows, and the marble floors. All of this had been so expensive, and he wouldn’t even be living here once Operation Utopia was done with. Well, maybe he could make it his holiday home, so to speak… and even after all was said and done, the casino would rake in money. It wasn’t officially opened yet, the paint still drying, the machines still being set up, fridges getting filled with foods and drinks to keep the people entertained and make them give away more of their money, but already the town was bustling with people eager to play into his hand.

With summer almost over, the scorching heat decreased. Crocodile wasn't much affected by temperature, but he noticed the change in weather. Clouds were rolling in over the oasis, and far to the east in Alubarna. The air was beginning to cool. The wind coming from the south carried the smell of the ocean. He knew it would only be a matter of time until the rains fell. He would allow this country one last rainy season, although he had already started production of dance powder during the summer. It just needed to be imported, and shipping would take a while. Like everything, it was a matter of time. Stopping the rain would have to wait another year.

Considering how well everything had gone so far, he was willing to let himself enjoy the good mood he would undoubtedly be in for the rest of the year. He just needed to make sure it wouldn’t make him reckless. He knew he was more prone to act on whims with the weather changing, and he needed to be careful. He absolutely couldn’t lose control.

A soft knock, followed by the click of the door, announced Nico Robin. He looked up from the newspaper, putting the article on the more than favorable economy he had been reading away. Alabasta was thriving.

"What is it?" he asked, putting the hand on the hook resting on his lap.

She waved an envelope. "You've got a letter from the king," she said as she walked over to him. He reached out and took it from her hand. The paper was heavy and felt official. It bore the seal of the king, and a flaming sun; Alabasta’s crest.

"Why would Cobra not just call me?" Crocodile wondered aloud, using the tip of the hook to rip apart the paper, uncaring of the damage it did.

Robin lightly waved her hand. "This seems to be more official. A messenger from the palace brought it and wanted to deliver it to you personally, but I persuaded him to give it to me instead. He only gave in when I mentioned disturbing you would probably anger you." Robin walked over to the bar, pouring herself a glass of water before joining Crocodile in the sitting area. She chuckled a little. “That always seems to do the trick.”

Crocodile turned his attention down to the letter, quickly reading it. “An invitation,” he muttered finally. “Some sort of holiday? Cobra wants me to be present.” He snorted, a grin spreading his lips. "Because, and I quote, I'm ‘ _a positive role model and a crucial person for the future of Alabasta.’_ Well, I _am_ flattered.”

Robin sat up. "Holiday?" she asked. "During this season that can only be the harvest festival... That's kind of a big deal in a desert country." She watched Crocodile shrug, and calmed her personal excitement over Alabastan culture. "The king must really think highly of you. Will you be going?"

Crocodile smirked. "It’s something to consider, what with it going to be the last harvest festival." He quickly skimmed the letter for a date. "October the twenty-second," he muttered. "Something about it feels familiar. What was that again…?"

"That's in about a month," Robin provided helpfully.

Crocodile made a face. "Thank you, I know." He tossed the letter aside. "Well, this is great. We can use this to our advantage. Write a response, tell Cobra I'll be there. I want it on his desk by the end of the week. Sooner, if possible. Pay someone to deliver it back directly to him or something. Suck up to him a little. He'll like that."

She smiled as she got up to her feet. "Trying to please the king? Modesty doesn't suit you.”

He thought she was treading on thin ice now. But he only shrugged, and blamed the weather for his lack of aggression. "Mind your own business and get to work. I don't pay you for lounging around."

"Understood, boss."

He watched her go and leaned back against his chair. He took up the letter again and stared at it for a while. It was almost overwhelming how well everything worked out. It thrilled him. And he knew that with every pesky rain cloud in the sky, his mood would only improve.

No sooner did he put the letter down Crocodile heard Robin’s steps return, the sound growing louder with each clicking of her heels.

“What did you forget?” he asked as she reappeared, stopping right at the door. In her hand was a baby den den mushi. Crocodile eyed the frightened expression on the snail’s face and scowled.

“We’ve hit a roadblock.” Robin walked over to the table and placed the small den den mushi in front of Crocodile. “Rather, a blockade.”

“What?” Crocodile growled, earning a flinch from the frightened snail.

“Sir Crocodile,” a shaky voice erupted from the snail. Crocodile didn’t recognize it. “There’s some guards asking to search one of your ships.”

Judging by the heavy breathing and stuttering, he guessed it was a civilian, which meant he’d have to censor his speech with Robin. He brought his stare up to her, furious that she hadn’t hung up the moment she got word of this. Hero or not, he was a pirate, and he knew the foolish people running this country would expect a few peculiar articles within his possession. But how well could he get away with some of the more questionable ones, a giant cannon in particular?

“S-sir Crocodile?” He kept his stare on Robin, silently reprimanding her for this terrible mistake. The two of them listened as the man on the line suddenly muttered something to another person. “Sir Crocodile,” the man pleaded, “I need your permission to allow these men a quick look around your ship.”

Crocodile brought his hand up before lowering his head and resting his chin on his palm. “For what, might I ask?”

“A random search,” was the reply.

“Random?” Robin muttered aloud.

“Hard to believe,” Crocodile said, lifting himself away from the den den mushi. He got up from his seat, raising his hook up and gesturing Robin to follow him with the snail. He waited for her heels to start clicking behind his before adding, “well, I might be a pirate, but I know my rights. Surely I have a right to deny a search without reason?”

He grimaced when the den den mushi in Robin’s hand produced a nervous cracking of the voice. “I’m not entirely sure of the situation. I’ve just received word from the harbor master. He’s stalling, but I know it’ll only be a matter of time before the guards make their way on the ship. They’re all from the royal palace, so I doubt they’ll need a warrant.”

Crocodile stopped at the door. “Is that so?” he asked, only feigning a portion of his surprise. Had Cobra figured him out? Was his lucky already running low? “Well, if it’s all the same, I’d like to request my ship be protected until I’m present.”

“Present?”

He looked out the window and stared at the gathering clouds. “It should take less than half an hour for me to reach the waters with my powers,” he said, turning his head to Robin. “I expect you to do whatever is necessary to keep my private property just that, understood?”

“I-I’ll see what I can do,” the den den mushi answered.

“See to it that you do,” he said, and hung up on the phone. He nearly brought his hook up, ready to hit the girl for causing him this stress. But he needed her talking and capable of being quick on her feet, and he was sure whatever frustration he’d lash out on her would leave in her in a less than mobile state. “Robin...”

“You don’t blame me for the suspicion growing within the palace walls, do you?” She made it sound like it was nothing, but he thought he heard worry in her voice. It was enough to appease him, for now.

“I have three ships making their way up to Rainbase.” He pointed a finger to the silent den den mushi. “Two of those ships have material necessary for distributing the dance powder. I need you to contact those ships immediately and find out if either of them are at port.”

“And if they are?” she asked.

“I’m no fool,” Crocodile said with a clever grin. “Whoever at the palace suspects me probably thinks I’m no better than the average pirate. I’ve taken the possibility of having my goods looked through into account, though I figured it would take place earlier in the planning than now.” He made another glance at the window, noting that the clouds were getting darker. “Have them hide whatever they can within the hidden compartments of the ships. It won’t mean a thing for the larger pieces that’ll make up the rainmaker ship, but the less they find the more likely I’ll be able to get away.”

Robin dared to look up at him with a smile. “Hidden compartments within your traveling ships?” she asked.

Crocodile would not admit the complex structure of his ships had anything to do with Doflamingo’s underworld ships. While certainly no slave ship, there was enough hidden space to smuggle several hundred pounds of material.

“I have a plan for everything.” He looked back to the window and the darkening view, noticing the gathering shades of dark grey mixing and expanding across the skies. “And you’ve a job to do.”

“Be careful,” he heard her say as he walked to the closed window. At the rate the weather was changing, it would be quicker to jump and change from where he was, than attempt to make it all the way down to the ground level. People would conclude whatever they wanted, at this point he couldn’t care less. “I’d hate to be stranded on this desert without any guarantee of an escape.”

He turned to stare at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was making fun of him. Her expression was hard to read. He frowned, and turned back to the window. “Go make the calls before I get any more upset than I already am.”

He pushed the window open, but exiting over the window seat left a weird taste in his mouth, together with a distant memory of feelings he pushed away for now. No reason to get distracted.

He jumped, and the wind helped carry him before he made it down to the next level. The people in the street, walking to and from the casino beneath, caught sight of the unusual spectacle, nudging each other and pointing upwards to the cloud of sand that got carried through the air. People cheered, waved and cried his name, but Crocodile paid them no mind. He was in a hurry, and Robin screwing up like she had was still annoying him. He figured she was gonna betray him sooner or later. She was handy to have around, but she grew exceedingly cocky. Maybe he needed to remind her just how much the World Government would pay him if he turned up with her head. Right now he pledged her protection, but bringing in the Devil’s Child who had eluded the government for almost twenty years was sure to shine up his reputation some more. Maybe it was a thing to consider for when she was no longer useful to him...

It surprised him that he spited this much despite the season. Then again, maybe he _would_ have hit her were it not for the weather. The heavy clouds overhead bore rain. It would be another few hours still before it fell, but Crocodile would probably not be able to get back to Rain Dinners using his powers. It was such an unnecessary hold-up. He wanted to get it over with quickly.

Rematerializing by the port down south and stepping back to the ground barely costed him a breath breath, like going down a flight of stairs. There was quite the commotion. Considering the workers still argued with some royal guards, Crocodile figured his belongings hadn't yet been touched, let alone confiscated.

He pushed through the crowd, people eagerly making way. Clearly people wanted to see how he would handle the situation. A guaranteed headline in the morning, he just knew it.

"Please," he said, opening his arms to subdue the clamor. "I came as fast as I could. What seems to be the problem?" He stared down at the royal guards, identifying their leader as Pell the Falcon. What an obnoxious fellow. He had been wary of him ever since he arrived, and nothing the king would say seemed to ease this man’s suspicion. In another setting, Crocodile would have congratulated Cobra on his fine men. Now, he found them annoying. The look that Pell was giving him told him enough, and he forced a smile to his lips "Vice-captain," he said. "I'm sure there is a reason for this? Surely you understand you’re holding up the construction of Rain Dinners? You know His Highness agreed to all of my plans... All of this is going to cost the country money. Without my materials, I can't build..." He gestured idly to the ship that anchored behind the guards, and the crew looking down expectantly from the rails. They were all Baroque Works’ members, hand-picked by Crocodile… not that _they_ knew this, of course.

Crocodile basked in how he could hear the people behind him mutter, agreeing with him, demanding Pell let him be. But he didn't let it show, only smiling and staring down to the little zoan user who seemed to constantly be at his tail. Just his luck with birds, wasn't it...

"Awful many imports, considering Rain Dinners had been declared finished recently," Pell said. His hand was idly resting on his sword. A clear message Crocodile noticed, and chose to ignore.

" _Opened_ ," he corrected smoothly. "Not finished. The casino is done, of course... I built it for the people, and they should have access to it as soon as possible. My personal quarters, however, are far from done."

Pell squinted a little. It was amusing to see how suspicious he was, without having any proof, and with less and less backup from the people. This was him and four guards, against Crocodile and the workers he paid.

"You've moved though," Pell said.

Crocodile only shrugged a little. "Of course. The king asked me to give up the hotel, and I thought sooner rather than later was the polite thing to do." He grinned a little. It was fun to use Cobra's words against his loyal guards. He wasn't even lying. "I understand your concern," he added graciously with a slight wave of the hook. "I did import a lot of building material... And I'm a pirate. With a warrant from the king, I suppose I can let you check my belongings."

"We need no warrant," Pell said coolly. "I'm vice-captain of the royal guards. I think that should be enough."

Crocodile couldn’t help the flaring of his nostrils at the more than obvious threat. He clenched his fist, hidden away from sight inside his coat. "I'm sure it would in any other situation," he finally said, voice dropping just a little to show how thin his patience was running. "But I'm a Royal Shichibukai, assigned by the World Government. So you'll get your king's warrant, or you leave and let me do my business."

“ _Royal Shichibukai_ ,” Pell mocked. He raised his right arm up, earning a few gasps from citizens and the guards with him. “Well, Sir Crocodile, last I checked a warrant isn’t necessary for a random search?” He looked over his shoulder and frowned at the hesitant guards standing behind him. “Men, quickly go through the contents of the ship and make sure it isn’t in possession of any illegal contraband.”

The arm was up, but nobody was moving. Crocodile struggled not to laugh as he witnessed the guards share uneasy looks at one another. He felt triumphant.

“Commander, are you sure about this?” one of the guards asked while surveying the growing crowds.

“Yes, Commander Pell,” Crocodile imitated, careful not to look over in the direction of his ship. “Are you quite sure about this?”

“All random searches are voluntary and can be rejected, though it becomes involuntary the moment suspicion arrives,” he answered. “This should only take a few minutes, assuming it’s building material. We’ve already lost so much time because we waited for you. You wanted to be present for this, right?” There was a smug grin on Pell’s lips, and Crocodile was struggling again to not lose his composure. “I’m sure your time is money, too. This will be over quick now that you’re here. Although I will say that anything out of the ordinary might add a few minutes to the search, but then I’ve seen your worker’s speed. It shouldn’t be too out of the way. Unless, there’s another excuse I’m not aware of?”

Crocodile knew he could only stall for so long before even the most determined of his fans grew concerned of his behavior. Assuming Robin did her job, this ship would have anything suspicious hidden away between the hollow walls and floors, and the other two ships stalling on their way up. If luck was on his side, then this ship was one of the three that possessed personal extravagances.

He succeeded with an obvious bitter smile. “Well, it seems I’ve been pushed into a corner,” he loudly remarked, his smirk growing when several Alabastans casted disapproving looks at their commander. “Seeing that I’m damned either way, I have no choice but to allow your men a quick glance at my wares.”

It was hard being polite when a year’s worth of planning was at risk of being uncovered. And when the four men marched toward the ship, leaving Pell to stand guard right next to him, Crocodile found it exceedingly difficult to not raise his hook at the pesky commander and do away with him.

The clouds growled and Crocodile knew it would rain soon. He tried to distract himself as two guards began questioning the millions. Whenever he looked down he’d notice a few of them staring at him, curious and unsuspecting of his role in whatever was going on. The other guards were somewhere in the ship, out of sight, but consuming his mind.

“You look nervous,” he heard Pell comment.

“A lot of people are witnessing this spectacle,” he replied. He crossed his arms and went back to staring at the dark grey sky. “I imagine once this is over your reputation will suffer. If not by the citizens, then by my written word to Cobra.”

“King Nefertari,” Pell corrected, “and we’ll see about that.”

Several minutes went by. Crocodile managed to remain calm under the building pressure, reaffirming to himself that the silence on board the ship meant nothing was discovered. Pell seemed to think the same, looking less confident and more worry stricken once the two guards were done speaking with the crew, approaching him with hardly any promising news.

A few more minutes went by, and now he was struggling to not break character and demand the search end. Even most of the civilians seemed to be growing bored of the wait. But then Crocodile saw a guard run up to the railing of the ship, waving something in his hands. Without jumping to conclusions, Crocodile stood quietly with his arms crossed while another guard approached the ship, catching what looked liked rolled up parchment. He wanted to squint and get a better look at what was surely about to be used against him, but didn’t want to jeopardize himself, not with the commander eyeing him.

“What is it?” Pell asked, taking the sheets handed to him by one of the guards.

“Some sort of files,” the guard answered.

Blueprints? Crocodile refused... _rejected_ the idea that the millions were so stupid as to hide everything but a few sheets of paper.

Pell unrolled the files, taking a step away from Crocodile and carefully examining his evidence. “They look like blueprints.” He glanced up at Crocodile. “Some sort of ship?”

Of course it would be the blueprints for his rainmaker. A key device needed in order to use the dance powder, and Pell had it in his hands. Or, at least a portion of it. With Pell purposely trying to hide the designs, it was hard to tell what was on the prints, but Crocodile knew better. The blueprints carried the designs, but there were no written instructions or name that could indicate the purpose of the ship. The ship had been designed by some of the most capable shipwrights in Water 7, and Crocodile had made it abundantly clear that he wanted this business to be discreet. He hadn’t seen the blueprints himself yet—well, now Pell was holding them—but he had paid a good sum of money to these people to do their job. He was sure he had been clear and his orders were heeded. And Crocodile was very careful to only work with capable people. With the millions not knowing who they were working for, and with half of the material on the ship was going to a Shichibukai, Crocodile was careful to keep secrets. The commander might have his ship, but without any idea what it was for the evidence was useless. And he knew it. The man was trying to get a confession from him. A twitch of the brow, a crack in his demeanor.

“Anything else?” Pell called out. The two guards on the ship looked to one another, and one of them yelled back that, aside from steel and other materials used to build a ship, there wasn’t much to look at. The canon, the smokestack base, and the furnace were aboard another ship, and without them Pell had nothing but a piece of concept art.

“Disappointed?” Crocodile asked, inwardly relaxing a little. “I’ll be honest, I’m not too proud of the design myself. I’m thinking about adding a few more details, maybe extending the figurehead.”

“You said you were shipping things for your personal quarters,” Pell murmured, still trying to make sense of the ship’s designs. Crocodile watched him stare down at the blueprints with a puzzled look, trying to find something, _anything_. “This ship doesn't look like something you’d live in, not with your extravagant tastes.”

“I don’t know,” one of the guards said while looking over Pell’s shoulder. His commander looked up, displeased to see one of his men defend the pirate he was trying to have arrested. The guard stumbled back. “Rain Dinners has a lot of crocodile themed designs going on,” he hastily added. “An entire street has a bunch of F-dile decorations! A-and then you have all those saltwater bananadiles hanging around...”

People gathered around were beginning to voice their discontent. Crocodile tried to not look too pleased when he heard them complain about the “random” search, at the way he was being treated, at the distrust the royal army had towards their precious hero for no apparent reason. Even now Pell was starting to waver, his hands shaking as he clenched the useless blueprints.

“Are we done?” Crocodile asked, casting another look up at the darkened sky. “It’s going to rain soon, and I’d like this to end before my coat gets ruined.” He brought his hand out to Pell, opening it and awaiting his files. “And I’d also like to finish this before people start to question the motives of the royal family. I’m sure you understand, _commander_.”

Pell winced at the mention of the royal family. Crocodile made it worse by smiling when he was handed his blueprints, making sure Pell saw his wide, mocking grin.

“Thank you,” Crocodile said, snatching the papers from him. “And don’t worry about apologizing, I’m sure your king will have plenty to give me once I’ve written to him of my recent treatment.”

Without saying a word to him, Pell called his men off the ship and ordered them back to the palace. All five men avoided unnecessary eye contact from upset citizens, one guard lowering his head at the sound of a few people clapping and vocally chastising them for picking on their hero.

Crocodile waited before heading to the ship, passing by unsuspecting millions while rolling up his blueprints. The Full would need to undergo a few modifications in order to sneak past the spy. There were other things to worry about. Even with his intent on writing to Cobra, there would always be a few people within the palace keeping an eye on him. He would need to hire a few millions and place them inside the royal guards, the palace, anywhere he could.

He needed more control. Taking over a country from behind the curtain was such a delicate task. There were so many things to consider... And a visit from a suspicious guard such as Pell right now was threatening to jeopardize his whole plan. Still wary of Robin, Crocodile decided he would need to amend a few things for the future.

The sky above bellowed a low growl, which brought Crocodile out of his trance. He stopped to count the seconds before having his eyes assaulted with flashes of lightning. Before he had a chance to begin, he felt a cold rain drop land on his head. Crocodile raised his head and stared at the dark grey sky that defied him, releasing rain hours earlier than he had predicted.

He triumphed over Pell, but he was now stuck in his current form, unable to return to his room with the use of his powers. Crocodile lifted his hand, exposing his palm to the elements, and frowned when he felt the hard impact of each raindrop. His ship was just feet away, but Crocodile remained where he stood, his eyes lowering on the pooling liquid collecting in his palm.

There was, in the back of his mind, the memory of Doflamingo telling him how he became king of Dressrosa in a single night. It took him years to get there, of course, and to infiltrate the castle with his green-haired girlfriend and make proper use of all of his family… Still, one night. One night was all it took. And he had been thirty-one. When Crocodile was that age, he lost his arm and his face. So much for accomplishments in life…

But no matter. Age meant nothing, and he would have his country, and the ancient weapon within it.

* * *

 

About two weeks later Crocodile was sitting at his desk, sorting through his finances when the den den mushi went off. It was after office hours, and without Robin to take the call, he put his paperwork away with a sigh, picking up when he realized the tiny snail just wouldn’t stop whining pathetically even after an exaggerated amount of time.

“You're getting really good at dodging me,” Doflamingo said without a greeting. “I’m actually impressed.” He was laughing, and it was not the good kind. Crocodile knew the second he heard him just how serious things were.

“I’m very busy these days,” he said, opening a drawer to get a cigar. This was going to take a while, he just knew it, and he needed something to calm his nerves. “Don't get offended.”

“Oh I'm _way_ past that,” Doflamingo answered. “Not calling me is one thing, I mean I get it, I know you, but not answering _my_ calls? That's a whole new level of jackassery.” Crocodile noticed how frantic Doflamingo was beginning to sound. As if on cue, he heard Doflamingo suck in a sharp inhale through the teeth, ready to unleash his pent up fury. “And what’s with that pesky secretary of yours?” he questioned. “What's her deal? You're certainly not fucking her, so what gives? Becoming a people person after all?”

“I'm not going to have this conversation if you continue to behave like a five year old having a temper tantrum.” Crocodile pushed his work aside. Apparently this was going to take a little longer than just ‘a while.’ Time had gone by so fast, nearly fifteen months past since they last seen each other. While Crocodile wasn’t about to admit it, he _had_ been avoiding Doflamingo since he arrived in Alabasta. Considering all the things Doflamingo got angry over, at least this was somewhat justified.

“Oh you _will_ ,” Doflamingo said in a threatening voice. “You will talk to me, right here and now, or I'm coming over.”

“Halfway across the globe, by Sky Path? I highly doubt it.”

Doflamingo's silence was more unsettling than his laughter. It was enough for Crocodile to rethink his next set of actions, and he hesitated from lighting up his cigar, knowing full well the sound alone might set Doflamingo off.

Finally he felt like he should say something, if only to be done with this and continue his work. “I’ve been incredibly busy,” he began.

“You already said that.” But now Doflamingo was irritated. He could hear his anger across the line so clearly he might as well have been in the office, and that thought drained Crocodile of all his patience.

“And if you gave me more than a damn second to finish my sentence you’d get an explanation,” he said, nearly hissing out the words. Prior to this conversation he had felt almost collected. Alabasta just finished receiving a three day storm, the clouds large enough to block out the sun, supplying Crocodile with more than enough wetness to distract him from the stress that he endured while trying to keep face and manage a criminal organization at the same time.

Doflamingo was draining him of this energy, and now he was close to hanging up, and he was sure Doflamingo knew this.

“Fine, I’m listening.”

Crocodile rubbed the side of his head and sighed heavily. “Do you recall the last time we saw each other? I _said_ I was headed back to Paradise.”

“Last I checked you were on a desert island consisting entirely of sand and rock,” Doflamingo sarcastically replied. “Hardly a paradise.”

“For the average man, no,” Crocodile said, willing to admit this truth if it meant speeding up the conversation. He was not prepared to have this phone call. Of course he had taken his relationship with Doflamingo into consideration when he made the final plans for Operation Utopia, but apparently he—and not for the first time—greatly underestimated the man’s ridiculous desire for attention and his need to be Crocodile’s sole reason of existing in the first place.

He stared at his cigar and played with it between his index and middle finger. He’d rather be outside and having a smoke, fending off the occasional Alabastan who asked to know every little thing about him, than be trapped in his office and having this pointless talk. “But you know I’m more than just a man,” he continued. “This island is perfect for someone of my talents. I’ve secured myself a wonderful, privileged position and live comfortably within the country.”

Instead of the spite he had been anticipating, he just heard Doflamingo shift in his seat. “Interesting…” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve just been thinking,” Doflamingo began. “You’ve never once settled on one place. You’re always on the move, always sailing without a purpose. It made meetups difficult. I spent so many years chasing you.” He let out a menacing chuckle. “But now you’re on this rotten sandpit of an island, wasting your efforts on…a casino? Why? You’re a damn good pirate, and I’ve seen how successful you are at plundering treasures.”

Crocodile scowled at the phone. “Get to the point.”

“I’m just wondering what sort of treasure _you’re_ chasing after,” Doflamingo replied, breaking into a quick laugh. Crocodile stopped rolling the cigar between his fingers and waited for Doflamingo to finish. He doubted Doflamingo was aware of Pluton, but considering how much he was able to figure out on his own worried him. “I’m very offended. Very, but you’re lucky… Because I’m also very curious. Tell me what new dream you’ve caught hold of, and if it’s entertaining enough I’ll find it within myself to forgive you for being so neglectful the last several months.”

Crocodile looked down at the grinning den den mushi. “Dream?” he asked.

“I don’t care how old you're getting, nothing short of some nonsensical goal is going to make me believe you’re content on settling down and running a legal business.”

Crocodile waited for Doflamingo to lash out at him, partly out of shock at how well Doflamingo was able to deduce, the other half still wondering a way out of this. He knew Dressrosa was a kingdom Doflamingo wouldn’t trade the world for, certainly not for Alabasta, but could he risk supplying any information regarding the ancient weapon? Positive assets aside, Doflamingo was a variable in his life that could get complicated easily. Especially because he was somewhat unpredictable.

The heavy sounds of something crashing into the lake surrounding Rain Dinners brought Crocodile out of his trail of thought. At first he considered it one of the banadiles, but the repetitive vibrations left him to conclude it was another storm passing through the oasis city.

Finally, Doflamingo broke the silence between them with a loud cough. “What are you up to, Crocodile?” He was back to sounding furious. Crocodile looked to the edge of his desk, at the collection of papers and files he’d moved over. He knew he would need to provide a satisfactory answer, otherwise this argument would continue for the rest of the night.

“A utopia,” he answered. He leaned back into his seat as he constructed his explanation, careful to refrain from giving away too much detail. “As you’ve stated, I have better things to do than spend my days relaxing, financially stable under the comforts of the gambling industry.”

He watched the little snail smirk at him. “Fufufu, I knew it. Tell me, is it the black market you’re dipping your feet into? Let me guess, some kind of firearms deal? You’ve always been fascinated with that sort of thing. If that’s the case I will continue to be offended, because really, you could’ve just asked me to help you.”

“Close, but no—” Crocodile stared at the neglected cigar in his hand and stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “Since it’s getting late I’ll be quick: I plan on taking this country for myself. And before you even think of going there: don’t. I assure you my plans for conquering this island have nothing to do with your prior successes.”

“My, my.” He heard something occurring on the other side of the line. It didn’t sound like laughter, but Crocodile was on edge, staring hard at the smiling den den mushi, prepared to get defensive if he so much as detected the slightest hint of laughter. Instead, he heard a clap. And then another, until it sped up and he was left sneering at the tiny snail, listening to it mimic Doflamingo’s applause. “Well, look at you! Trying to make yourself king of the sandbox, eh? Yes, that does make some sense, now that I think about it.”

Crocodile made a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He watched the snail settle back down, and for some reason the stupid leer it wore made him more uncomfortable than Doflamingo’s anger from before.

“Nothing,” Doflamingo chuckled. “You’ve not changed at all, have you?”

“I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses. Now I’m sure you’re more than well aware of why I’ve not been able to take your calls,” Crocodile added, still casting sour looks at the delighted snail phone. “I haven’t even been to the office much. Hence the secretary. I do a lot of, how do I put this, road work. You know how it is. And I can’t be distracted from my plans.”

“Yes, of course,” Doflamingo answered. “I’ve been there before. So many things to take into account when trying to win a country over, ‘Mr. Hero.’ But you _already_ know that.”

Crocodile rubbed his brow. “I just stated this isn't about you, Doflamingo.”

“Is that so?” Doflamingo asked. Crocodile pinched his cigar, regretting having said a thing to the idiot. “Because, if that’s the case, I can have you king of a country in less than a week. I’ll send my fastest ship to pick you up, change a few laws around in Dressrosa. You’ll be ruler of a great land before my birthday. I’m sure you’re enjoying making the newspaper as much as you do currently. Now imagine _that_ headline.”

Crocodile only sighed. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the man who dreams of ruling a country filled with nothing but sand,” Doflamingo replied harshly. It was obvious he didn’t take the rejection well. It was a stupid suggestion, but Crocodile knew better. Doflamingo wasn’t asking for his hand, he was asking for him. He was practically begging for him to come over, even going as far as to bring up his birthday as some pathetic excuse. Crocodile might have felt something were it not for that irritating word that kept being brought up.

“This isn’t a dream,” he growled. He leaned closer to the den den mushi, letting his shadow cast over the snail. “I don’t dream, I set goals and accomplish them. And I refuse to set aside my goals, _my hard work_ , and be handed whatever the hell it is you’re offering.”

“An entire kingdom,” Doflamingo said.

“Being given a country isn't the same as taking one,” Crocodile continued. He placed the cigar in his mouth and reached for his lighter while listening to Doflamingo’s movements through the den den mushi. He made sure to make just enough sounds of his own and alert the man what he was up to, in case he felt the need to assume anything else. He was hitting his limit, and he wanted Doflamingo to know. “I’d much rather earn a kingdom myself, through my own means.”

Once again, Doflamingo went silent. Crocodile was able to light his cigar and take a few deep inhalations, bringing him out of his anxious state and back to a more relaxed one. The quiet snail was a little unnerving, but this time Crocodile didn't let it bother him. Doflamingo had just finished suggesting giving away half his throne and country in order to have him, and Crocodile held on to the insult in order to keep him determined.

“I’ll be visiting in a few weeks,” Doflamingo muttered. The snail’s eyes barely lifted up enough for Crocodile’s to catch a glimpse of the shades. The rest of the face was hidden, but he guessed Doflamingo was more or less disappointed.

And he was about to make it worse.

“It’ll have to wait. I’ve a soiree to attend in about two weeks.” He took his cigar and blew his smoke right above the quiet den den mushi. He waited for Doflamingo to remark on his attitude being anything but party-material, but was left with only the subtle sounds of the banadiles swimming behind him.

He continued, “While I don’t intend to stay longer than necessary, I do plan on exploiting the trust I seem to have gained from the king. If I suspect there’s anything in the castle worth looking over, I might be there for and extended, unknown amount of time.”

“Because having your pretty secretary assassinate the royal family overnight would be too much?”

It would be so easy to have Cobra killed at the party. So many people visiting, it wasn’t unreasonable to think there might be an enemy hidden in the crowd, at the party disguised as a guest or entertainer. No, he needed Cobra alive until he had an idea of Pluton’s location. But then, Doflamingo didn't know that, and he couldn't possibly be allowed to know about it. The fool was privileged in just waltzing over, using his powers on the king and his men, and taking over the country in just over a day. There wasn’t any hidden weapon to think about.

“I’m not like you,” he said. “Manslaughter isn’t really my style. I need to take everything into consideration. Alabasta is several times bigger than Dressrosa, with far more people to deal with. And though I’ve gained the majority of the population’s trust, I know any suspicious death might result in a few important fingers pointing to me. And the World Government will only tolerate so much from us.”

He heard Doflamingo huff. “I’m hearing a lot of words right now,” he began. “A lot of excuses and bullshit. But what I think you’re telling me is that it’s going to be at least two or more weeks before I can grace you with my presence.”

Crocodile looked over his shoulder and spotted one of the banadiles swimming by. “I’ll try to see if I can make more time for a few calls.”

“You’ll _try_?”

“Well, not if you keep with that attitude,” he remarked. Something like a growl was shook through the disappointed looking den den mushi’s lips. Even though the office was dry, way below the rain that was passing through, Crocodile felt something. Perhaps a bad conscience, or fatigue from a long day of work, coupled with Doflamingo’s incessant talking. Either way, he felt the need to add on and fix this talk before ending. “But I suppose I can make a point to contact you more, or at the very least be willing to take a few calls at the end of the week.”

“I do hope so.” It didn’t sound nearly as threatening as it could’ve been, but Crocodile chose to heed the warning if only to keep Doflamingo off his back the following weeks to come.

“Look—” he sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his brow with his thumb before placing the cigar back between his teeth to drag the receiver closer to his mouth. The closest he could do with the distance between them to sound sincere. He wasn’t going to apologize or suck up to Doflamingo, but all things considered—especially just how much of a threat Doflamingo was to his plans—he knew Doflamingo was right. “Don’t be mad. I’ll change a few things, alright? I’ll make time so we can see each other before the year is over. You can come over for a week or two, as a vacation. You’ll like my casino. And the food, the food is good. A lot of disgusting sweets you’re gonna like. I can show you around the country. There’s plenty of nightlife in Alubarna. Hell, we can go annoy the king. Two Shichibukai together whom he has to appease? And you’re a king, too. The man is going to have a mental breakdown. It will be fun.” Crocodile willed himself to let Doflamingo hear his smile. “How does that sound?”

There was a long silence between them and Crocodile could practically see Doflamingo suck in his lips and frown. Crocodile was manipulating him now, and Doflamingo knew that. But it was working, because he wanted to do all these things so badly.

“I liked you better when you were here last time,” he finally said. The remark surprised Crocodile, but Doflamingo didn’t let him answer. “You better keep your promise.”

He hung up without a word of goodbye.

For several minutes Crocodile remained silent and watched the smoke from his cigar trail up and disappear into the ceiling. He assured himself things hadn’t gone too out of hand with Doflamingo. Crocodile moved his head to stare at the calendar on his table. There were meetings and appointments filling about every day for the rest of the month. The twenty-second had an appointment in red and an exclamation mark. It said, “harvest festival at the palace.” The following days all had strikes across them, made to indicate the time he would spend in Alubarna, travel, and so forth.

He stared at the calendar a few seconds more, at the long busy weeks ahead of him, and Doflamingo’s remark about having him over before his birthday arose in his mind, bringing his focus on the twenty-third and the red strike slashed across it. Suddenly he recalled what he had been trying to remember about that date.

 

* * *

 

The view from Cobra’s private bedroom was over the gardens in Alubarna’s north. It was a beautiful view, but he couldn’t really appreciate it. He preferred to stand by the balcony of the southern courtyard, above the steps that led down to the town square. From there he could see the entire city and watch people walk about, minding their business. Sometimes someone would spot him, and he would wave. For most of his life and reign, people had waved back.

This day, for the first time, someone didn’t. They turned their head back down, and hurried away. Cobra was baffled.

It nagged him all day. He told himself he was imagining things, and maybe the person hadn’t looked up after all. Maybe they hadn’t seen him or were in a hurry, or experiencing a bad day. These things happened. It was no big deal.

There were more pressing matters at hand. The festival was in a few days, and the palace was bustling with activity. Foods and rooms for guests were being prepared, the gathering hall was getting decorated, and Terracotta was tailoring new robes for him and Vivi.

Thinking of his daughter helped ease his worry. She was all he had in this world. After the queen’s passing away, the people—Cobra included— loved her more than before. She would make for a fine queen one day. A few more years so she could grow up, and he would gladly give her the throne. She had proven she was worthy of it years ago.

Without her in his life, what would he be?

“What are you thinking about, Sire?”

Cobra looked up to meet Chaka’s eyes. “Oh, nothing,” he said and waved his hand a little. “Much has happened in this country recently, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord,” Chaka said politely.

Cobra sighed. Chaka was loyal and a proficient vice-captain, but not someone he could have a good conversation with. “Where is Igaram?” he asked, hoping he could have a word with him instead.

“Overseeing the preparations for the festival with his wife,” Chaka answered. “I think last I saw him in the courtyard, talking the guards through their routine.”

“Good,” Cobra said with a slight nod. No point in disturbing the man in his work. “Where is Vivi?”

Chaka shifted a little where he stood. “Watching, I presume.”

Cobra groaned. “She’s not supposed to be with the guards… Has Pell taken her with him again? Bring her up, would you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Chaka took his leave to see to his king’s demands, and Cobra was left sitting on his throne alone. Pell hadn’t shown his face much since the incident two weeks ago. While Cobra couldn’t blame the vice-captain for harboring suspicion towards Crocodile, their run-in with each other didn’t end well. Cobra heard from various people that they thought the behavior from royal guards was uncalled for and, to some extent, he agreed. He allowed Crocodile to do as he wished… and so far he did nothing that wasn’t agreed upon in the contract they both signed. Cobra would have been fine with just a handshake, but Crocodile insisted, probably to show he was being sincere.

Crocodile behaved and helped the country. They had survived the hot summer months in the black. Alabasta was no poor country, and that hadn’t been the case in ages. The presence of a Shichibukai owning a casino attracted a lot of people, not just from Alabasta, but from all over the Grand Line. Back in spring, Crocodile mentioned tourist attractions, and now he was becoming one all by himself. And with increasing enthusiasm about what they already called “The Hero of Alabasta,” Crocodile only withdrew more from the public. The man’s distaste for publicity was only making him more mysterious, adding to the fascination people held for him.

Distracted, Cobra didn’t notice Vivi enter and run up to him. Like so often, her knees and face were dirty from playing outside, and her hair was a mess.

“You called, papa?” she said as she climbed up the stairs to reach him. He took her up to sit in his lap and wipe away the smudges on her cheeks.

“You’ve gotten yourself dirty again,” he scolded, but without any ill-will in his voice. “You need to be orderly at the party, okay? There will be a lot of important people there, and I want you to be there, too, so you can see what it’s like. Are you excited?” He watched her nod excitedly and gently put his hand on her head to stroke her hair. “Good. I need you on your best behavior. There will be a lot of important people coming whom you’ll have to impress.”

She laughed a little and gently pushed his hand away to fix her hair by herself. “Of course, papa. I know the harvest festival is important. I’ll be the best princess I can be!”

”Good. I know you can do it.”

Vivi nodded again, but fell silent. He gave her the time she needed to sort her thoughts and speak up. “Papa,” she finally said. “Is Sir Crocodile coming, too?”

The question surprised him, and he leaned back a little. “Yes,” he answered. “Well. He sent word he would… That doesn’t mean he’s gonna show up, but... I do hope it.”

She frowned. “I don’t like him.”

He smiled at her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “He’s a scary man, isn’t he? And he’s a pirate. I suppose you do well not liking him. But,” he added, “sometimes you have to get along with people even though you don’t like them. So I expect you to be respectful when you meet him. But don’t worry… he doesn’t seem like the type to like children anyway. I’m sure he will hardly look at you.”

“That doesn’t make him sound any nicer,” Vivi muttered, and Cobra laughed.

“I suppose not…but, Vivi… We, as the royal family, are the representatives of the people. We do what the citizens want us to…and they love Sir Crocodile. And, well… He has really benefited us greatly. We are deeply indebted to him. And something keeps him here… So he must love this country too, right? And if it’s only for its sand… The sand is part of our kingdom just as well.”

“And crocodiles protect the royal family,” Vivi added.

“Exactly.” Cobra was once again surprised by his daughter’s foresight. She went from a little girl who complained about not liking someone to the princess who understood political and historical circumstances. She would make a great queen one day. He hoped he would live to see it.

No, Crocodile was no nice guy. But Cobra was no fool. Even without knowing about the stories about him and Whitebeard, the hook and the scar made no secret of the life Crocodile had lived. To be honest, when Cobra really tried to imagine it, he couldn’t blame the man for wanting to settle down in a country made solely of the element he controlled with his ability. And maybe he was sick of his life of piracy. Technically, he still was a pirate, working for the government… But not even regular pirates regarded him as one anymore.

So far Crocodile had been grumpy, and at times aggressive and rude, but not incapable of reason. Cobra was hoping to appease him a little more, and work together in the future. They would both benefit from it, and he was prepared to do this if it was what the people wanted.

With less than an hour before dinner, Cobra sent his daughter to quickly get cleaned up. Nothing too serious, as he understood she would most likely sneak out once again to play with her friends. He’d tolerate a few smudges on the elbows if it meant her enjoying her time as a child for just a bit longer.

Bored of sitting around, and with so much commotion going around the palace, Cobra returned to the balcony. The courtyard below was filled with decorations. Servants were placing lighting fixtures all over the wide space, while hired party planners marked out areas that would later be covered with tables, decorations, or skilled entertainment. Just looking down at all the busy commotion left the king exhausted, and he turned away from it, choosing instead to focus his attention on the citizens just outside the palace.

It was getting late, but he spotted a few people passing by. A couple with carrying golden lanterns caught his attention. The paper that covered the lantern was oddly shaped, curved and looking a bit like a banana. Cobra had to squint to get a better look, but he was sure that’s what it was.This gaudy lantern wasn’t the only strange thing in their possession. Between the two were bags filled with bright colored trinkets, the most notable being a stuffed bananadile, fat head poking out at the top.

Cobra figured the couple recently visited Rainbase. He’d seen familiar quirky looking souvenirs being traded and gifted between servants.

He then realized the two were looking up at him. Surprised, Cobra pulled away from the balcony edge, but recovered quickly enough to produce an eager smile and wave at the young couple.

Neither waved back.


	4. Chapter 4

As Crocodile suspected, most of the royal guards were positioned in and around the palace, with a few smaller groups placed within the surrounding neighborhoods, totaling up to about six blocks. He stood just beyond that boundary with Robin, and her anxious ridden stare temporality distracted him from a night of foreseeable stress.

 

He dragged Robin along not as a guest—not that she was invited anyway, or wanted to come—but to have her survey the more historical parts of Alubarna. Crocodile concluded that Pluton was probably hidden somewhere around the older portions of the city. Robin, being well-informed of the city’s structure, would have plenty of opportunity to look around the now-empty streets, safe from the guards and bounty hunters as most of them were busy at the city’s square, where a majority of the citizens partook in the festival. She knew this, and yet Crocodile noticed her nervous glances as they made their way closer to the palace. It wasn’t like her to be so distracted.

 

It wasn’t like him to feel so excited. The weather was improving, but there was still some dampness in the air from last night’s light rainfall. Although he was smiling now, just several hours ago he wondered if there would be a festival to attend. There were a few large clouds in the sky, but he suspected nothing beyond a few sprinkles would bother him.

 

“I won’t be able to make it to the military base,” Robin commented suddenly. He turned and watched her lift a finger, pointing to a few streets beyond where two guards stood, patrolling the area.

 

“Do you think Pluton would be hidden underneath the establishment?” he asked. A cool breeze blew between the two of them, causing his stare to break and focus once again on the city and the environment.

 

This portion of the city, though empty, still had a few dyed lanterns scattered about. Even now Crocodile could lift his head and spot a few glowing objects being sent up into the sky, as well as catch the faint sounds of laughter from families celebrating at the center of the great city.

 

“Old maps indicate that the building has several underground facilities,” Robin replied quietly. “If the royal family was going to hide an ancient weapon, an out of commissioned base like this one would be a likely candidate.”

 

The answer was less than agreeable, but Crocodile was finding it difficult to be displeased. He looked over at the guards turning a corner and tried to be upset over the fact that Robin would not be able to break into the building without risking her capture, but instead wondered over whether he would be able to shift his form into sand. At the rate his attention span seemed to dwindle, odds are it wasn’t likely.

 

“You’ll have plenty of sections from the city to gather information from.” He moved away from the wall he was leaning against, not surprised when he didn’t hear her following after. “Considering its location, so close to the center of the city, I think it would be safe to assume that Pluton isn’t there. No,” he assured Robin, “Pluton would be farther away from all of… _this_.” He raised his hand and gestured with small waves at the surrounding buildings, all large and very crowded.

 

Robin’s frowned ceased a little. “I suppose you might be correct,” she said, voice softer than usual. She finally took a step out of the shadows, coming right up to him. “I can start checking the courthouse. That’s a few blocks from here, and it might be large enough to store an ancient weapon.”

 

Crocodile grinned. “Excellent. I’ll carry a baby den den mushi on my person, so I expect a call the moment you find anything.”

 

“ _If_ I find anything,” she corrected. “Though, personally, I would hate to interrupt you.”

 

He turned and lifted both hand and hook in a shrug at her unusual remark. “What on earth makes you say that?” he asked. She was smiling, and while that was pretty normal as far as her poker face was concerned, today it seemed different.

 

“You’re smiling,” she replied. “Far more tonight than what I’m used to seeing.” She took another step forward, and suddenly Crocodile realized her dwindling anxiety was more than likely a result of his own strange behavior. “You’re excited,” she added, “I can tell.”

 

It didn’t matter how under the weather’s influence he might have been, Crocodile made sure to cease his smiling as he walked past Robin, paying no mind as she covered her mouth and looked away. “Go do your job,” he ordered, but her words echoed in his mind. Was he really excited? This festival wasn’t a big deal to him. He didn’t care for the country’s harvest, and certainly didn’t care for spending the evening among hundreds of people. He was only going because it benefited his plans, and this was going to work so much better with Cobra thinking he was on his side.

 

There really was no reason to get excited.

 

“Of course,” she said through her hand. Crocodile heard it, could tell she was enjoying this change, but couldn't find it within himself to be upset. He increased his stride, leaving the alleyway in favor of the main street, where Robin couldn’t follow. He made it about three steps when he caught the sound of an additional “have a wonderful night,” and it pained him when he felt his lips curve upwards into a faint smile.

 

He walked about a block’s length before deciding to use his powers. While he didn't care for showing up to the party on time, he did want to give the impression that he cared somewhat about being invited. Cobra handing him the invitation was a sign the king trusted him, or was at least pretending to. The best course of action was to give Cobra what he wanted and show up only moderately late, provide some entertainment to any well-known names, and continue giving the impression that he was interested in remaining a hero of the country, showing an interest in not only the festivities, but whatever boring schlock Cobra felt like talking about.

 

The sounds of merriment grew louder, and Crocodile rematerialized his legs once he was less than a block away from the center square. He turned the corner and was welcomed with the loud, crowded, colorful sight of people celebrating the end of the rains. Families were dressed in brightly colored robes, children waving sparklers and dyed incense that left off colored trails of smoke behind them as they ran about. Older citizens carried baskets filled with newly purchased trinkets bought from the many stands that aligned the square. Crocodile recognized the orange, pink, and yellow lanterns that were carried by many of the citizens as miniature tributes, some which would sent straight to the sky, while the remaining would be placed on a small paper boat and sent out to sail the rivers.

 

For the first time in months he was able to step into the crowds without dreading to be noticed. Eyes were resting on him, but nobody bothered to run up and ask for a smile, a wave, or autograph. Many people were smiling at him, and several more were waving, calling him over to try out the kebabs, the kahk and cakes, and the pitas stuffed with meats, beans, salads, or laden with honey and sugar. He passed a few stands and watched merchants scramble to pick up their nicest rings, necklaces, and bracelets. A few people offered non-lit sparklers to him. A young woman picked up a bright green lantern and held it up to him. Men laughed and yelled for him to hurry and catch sight of the dancers before they walked off the stage.

 

The lights, the colors, the sounds of laughter and yelling, of people calling out to one another, and the dancing, performers stretching and posing, playing with rods, rings and fires, and the stands where families gathered to make crafts, buy food and drinks, seeds from the harvest, mementos and favors... All felt familiar to him. The outfits were different, the designs on robes and veils more elaborate, the patterns looser to fit a life in the desert. The food was sweeter in appearance and taste, not so much seafood, more grains. The fireworks lacked a few particular shades, and the music playing wasn’t as fast, but Crocodile recognized the energy all around him and knew he experienced something not too different back when he visited Dressrosa during the carnival.

 

Doflamingo had made such a big deal of it. It was Dressrosa’s celebration of the New Year, made up by Doflamingo after the country had regained its wealth under his rule. He made up a bunch of holidays, but the carnival was his favorite, because it was an entire week of excess and partying. And it was such a fond memory, and the days had begun to swim together into one crazy frenzy of colors and music and tastes and _each other_.

 

Alabasta right now felt so damn much like that time, only now he was by himself.

 

He remembered their fight when Doflamingo called and said he wanted to come over. Had Crocodile let him, he would’ve been here with him now. He regretted forbidding him, because surely this would’ve changed Doflamingo’s mind about what he called a “rotten sandpit of an island.” They could have explored the festival together, tried the food, watched the fireworks. He’d take him to watch the belly dancers, and would have laughed when Doflamingo would peek over the sunglasses to get a better look, so captured by the women’s twirling and shaking, the veils and the shining jewelry on their bodies. He was so easy to excite.

 

He’d show up to Cobra’s party for an hour or two, just for the impression, and leave Doflamingo to roam the streets and eat all the food he wanted, and after that Crocodile would pick him up, and pleasantly intoxicated from the night they would retreat to blissful togetherness.

 

It took a while, but Crocodile realized the reason why people were smiling at him, being so kind and offering him all these things was because he was distracted, so much so that he hadn’t even noticed that he was smiling himself, or that his steps were decreasing in length and stride. He stopped to look at things, watch people, even talk a word or two.

 

The sight of several guards giving directions to a well dressed couple brought him out of his state, and he reminded himself of tonight’s goals and was careful to keep his attention focused on the palace. With dark clouds gathering in the sky, he raised his hand up to detect the moisture level, a little frustrated that he wasn't able to tell, not with the heat of hundred of celebrating Alabastans surrounding him. With the building less than a hundred feet away, he focused on his hand, surprised that it took a second for the change from flesh to sand to occur.

 

There was nothing laid out to indicate that there was a special event taking place in the palace, just several guards outlining the entrance to the palace, accepting only those who bore the invitation to let pass. Crocodile took his time, noting by the dress of those let in that mostly Alabastans would be attending the event.

 

A pair of guards stood at attention the moment they noticed him approaching the palace. Crocodile pulled out his invitation and flashed it to them, slipping past before they could give a proper greeting. He continued onward, listening to the erratic sounds of citizens making merry behind him begin to cease, and then replaced with momentary silence.  

 

Then there was music, not too different from the chords being played outside, though it lacked the lowbrow tenacity that could only be produced by the common man. This music was smoother and fuller in sound, obviously played by professional hands. The music underwent a decrescendo, and Crocodile then noticed to sounds of conversation being shared, gossip and laughter.

 

Crocodile stopped just as he entered the throne room and was greeted with the extravagant sight of musicians, lights, crowds of well-dressed Alabastans and other officials enjoying tricks performed by magicians, dancers and exotic animals. There was a banquet that he could barely make out past several busy crowds, and several servants were walking around and offering samples of drink, drugs, snacks and other assortments. The walls were adorned with bright colorful tapestry chosen just for the occasion, and ornaments depicting animals twisted with jewels or precious metals hung all over.

 

Crocodile raised his head towards the ceiling and peered up at the crystal chandelier reflecting light, and quietly admitted to himself that this was all rather impressive. A servant approached him and asked for his coat, pulling Crocodile out of his state of wonder. He rejected the offer. As enthusiastic as he might have felt, there were some comforts he wasn’t about to give up, not for the sake of keeping appearances. As it was, there were a few eyes already settling on him, and Crocodile didn’t need to concentrate too hard to make out his name being whispered a few times.

 

He passed by the servant, heading forward but without any clear direction of where to go. By the looks of it there was entertainment going on at every corner, and that was just in this room. Odds were Cobra set up a room for constant music and maybe some dancing, a dining hall for whatever feast or banquet he prepared, and there would most certainly be a room for taking a moment or two to relax and settle down. As excited as he felt right now, Crocodile wondered where that break room might be located.

 

He turned to the far end of the room where the throne was located, and wasn’t surprised to find it vacant. Of course the king wouldn’t be sitting there, ruling his subjects from above.

 

He looked around, but couldn’t spot him anywhere near. Grabbing a servant hurrying past him by the arm, almost making him spill the drinks he had on a tablet, he asked, “Where is the king?”

 

The servant stabilized his tray. “I saw him last by the sitting area,” he stammered, pointing to Crocodile’s left, where behind the colonnade were veils secluding an impromptu sitting area. Crocodile let go of the servant’s arm, and snatched one of the drinks away. Crocodile watched with an amused stare as the servant hurried off, eager to be out of his presence.

 

He had no real plans for tonight. He told himself he would use this party to further ground the trust Cobra placed in him, but for the single, one time in his life there was no elaborate plan how to go about things. He blamed the weather, and figured he’d let things happen tonight and see where it would bring him.

 

The opened windows did nothing to ease the humidity gathered in the great hall, and with him still being in his coat, Crocodile ended up emptying his drink quicker than he intended. He made his way to the sitting area, walking past smaller groups of people who were drinking and talking loudly, a few couples that already resorted to only caring about each other. There were low, wooden tables, drinks and finger food and pipes on top of them, and maybe a dozen people sitting on the floor around it, Cobra at the far end. There apparently was a heated discussion taking place, but as Crocodile made his way forward and Cobra noticed him, visibly straightening up, and the conversation falling silent.

 

Crocodile waved the hook around in a vague greeting. “I just wanted to give my regards to the host,” he said with a grin. Cobra was about to get up to his feet, but Crocodile shook his head.

 

“Please, Sir Crocodile, sit with us,” Cobra said, settling back in his seat and gesturing to one of the vacant floor cushions, but Crocodile shook his head again.

 

“I don’t want to interrupt,” he said, and walked to the side to a small table by the wall, close enough to still be in hearing range of Cobra’s table. “Please pretend I’m not even here.”

 

Cobra watched him take his seat, searching his coat for a cigar and lighting it, before he turned back to his guests, and the discussion at hand. “Where were we?” he asked with what Crocodile thought looked like a forced smile.

 

One of the guests, who Crocodile identified as the mayor of one of the oasis towns south of Alubarna, reminded the king how they were talking about the country’s income. It had been a good year, and Crocodile’s earnings helped the entire country, but on a national level, the long summer months were still dragging the country’s average down, and the income of the short rainy season afterwards wasn’t enough to pull the country out of the red again. Cobra agreed and continued to assure him that the country was wealthy enough to manage a bad year or two. Three if it had, because Cobra didn’t hesitate to make money off the royal belongings if need be.

 

Crocodile watched from his corner, looking disinterested with a lidded stare, but inwardly way more interested in the discussion than he let anyone in on. The people loved Cobra, but it was more than pleasing to see that when the common folk weren’t around, and things became harsh, and numbers and political issues arose, there was just the right amount of distrust and disappointment. Cobra was a people person, not someone for exploitation, but that was exactly what business was about. It was reassuring to see him argue with these people. Crocodile was careful to remember their names and businesses as they slowly but surely backed Cobra off into a corner with their demands. Cobra was so desperate to keep everyone happy.

 

The discussion became more heated by the minute, and Crocodile was enjoying himself until finally, someone gave in to their anger.

 

“You call yourself a representative of the people, but still you're a king by birth, and not an elected ruler,” a young businessman said. Although his dark skin and brown eyes and features were clearly Alabastan, his clothes were foreign and were of a more modern design. He was of a different generation than the king, and he clearly possessed different goals and outlooks on life. “I say this is hypocrisy, Your Majesty... With all due respect.”

 

There was a silence following the insult, and everyone looked at Cobra, who had gasped softly. He was at loss for words. The accusation was justified enough, he knew. He hadn’t been elected. He was king simply because his father was. And his father before him. For generations, hundreds of years now, that had been the course of things. It was rather unfair on the people, wasn’t it? Other countries had elected rulers; only a certain few lived under one of the twenty kingdoms of the world.

 

Cobra was silent for a moment, carefully considering his answer. He knew with every passing second that he needed to think, people would only grow less trusting of him. His guests were whispering to each other. He wasn't supposed to take this long to answer. He exhaled carefully. “Well, I—” he started, and stopped himself when he heard a slow chuckle.

 

Everyone at the table turned to look at Crocodile, who was still comfortably lounging by himself, chin propped into his palm with a cigar between his fingers. He was grinning and seemed to be enjoying himself tremendously.

 

“Oh please,” he said once he realized his interruption had made him center of attention. “ _That's_ what you get worked up about? Of all the royal families on this planet, I’m sure you realize the Nefertaris are one of the more decent ones. And, I might add, the only one remaining of the originals. All the others are now sitting on their holy asses in Mariejois and having a fun time inbreeding. Compare this to your king and his lovely daughter...” He placed the cigar between his teeth with a shrug. “Would you rather have Wapol instead? I don’t think so.” He leaned his face against his knuckles and grinned sharply around the cigar. “You really have no reason to complain. Consider yourselves lucky instead.”

 

He loved the bewildered looks he got, and he saw Cobra’s eyes widen. He couldn’t help but grin, and raised his glass a little towards the king for a subtle toast before drinking it down in one gulp. Oh he enjoyed watching him get bullied by his own countrymen, but that was no reason to join in on the fun. Playing pretend provided him with so much more joy.

 

He watched idly from half-closed eyes how Cobra regained his composure, and picked up where he had left off. It was almost as if nothing had ever happened, but Crocodile could see him look over every now and then, and whenever their eyes met, Crocodile grinned a little, offering a nod, or just blew out a trail of smoke to the already smokey ceiling. But he made sure Cobra noticed him being there. He didn’t barge in on the conversation anymore, although he paid close attention to what was said. But his job was already done.

 

“Thank you,” Cobra said later, when the representatives were gone and scattered throughout the hall, leaving them alone in the secluded alcove Crocodile was still resting in. “I appreciate your support.”

 

Crocodile shrugged. He was still sitting at his table, a little away from all the others. Considering everyone here was some sort of Alabastan noble or politician, he surely was the odd man out, and not only because of his looks and the way he dressed. For once, he didn’t plan to get too involved, and was content just to watch from the shades.

 

Cobra pointed to the pouffe vacant at Crocodile’s table. “May I?”

 

“Please,” Crocodile said with a wave of his hand, taking the cigar from his mouth and putting it in his ashtray while the king collected his elaborate robes and sat down with him.

 

“So, are you enjoying yourself?” Cobra asked, smiling at Crocodile. His hands were folded on the table, fingers laced into each other. It was weird seeing him dressed up like this, the robes he wore on a normal day were less pompous and elaborate, and he usually didn’t wear jewelry like he did today. This festival really was a big deal, wasn’t it? The princess, too, had been all dolled up…The first time he'd seen her she was in a plain, white dress, her hair tied together to not get in the way, knees and hands dirty like she was a normal girl. Today, she looked much more like a princess.

 

“Yes,” Crocodile said, without too much of a pause. “Thank you for the invitation. It really is… exciting.”

 

“You’re enjoying the wine?” Cobra asked, pointing vaguely to the empty glass and vial on the table. “I know our spiced wine must taste rather different to what you’re used to, but it is a very well known drink here in Alabasta. Grapevines in Alabasta only grow in the far south east where there’s more moisture in the air from the ocean, but the soil makes for a really rich taste.”

 

“I like it,” Crocodile said simply, because Cobra sounded like he was trying to justifying himself against Crocodile’s foreign origin. “I’ve had the pleasure to drink some when I was staying in Erumalu, but the vintage you have here is indeed better.”

 

Cobra nodded, still smiling. “Well, I’m glad,” he said. There was a pause, and Crocodile was just staring at him in silence until he took his cigar up again to take a drag. Cobra half expected him to blow the smoke in his direction, but when Crocodile exhaled again, he actually moved his head aside. “So, Sir Crocodile, may I ask you something?”

 

“Crocodile will be enough, Your Highness,” Crocodile said. “Go ahead.”

 

Cobra shifted in his seat. Whatever it was he was gonna lay on Crocodile, it seemed to have bugged him for quite some time. “Why did you come to Alabasta?” he asked finally. “What does this country have to offer that makes you stay here, invest all this money in its infrastructure, attending official meetings, well... all of what you’ve done the past year? Why are you _here_?”

 

Crocodile watched Cobra for a while from half-closed eyes, head resting again against his hand.

 

The question was so familiar. Why was it that everyone seemed so baffled by him being here?

 

“I’m sure you’re aware of my ability,” he said, taking the cigar for a last drag before he rested it on the ashtray to burn out.

 

Cobra nodded, and waited for Crocodile to continue, but there came nothing.

 

“That’s it,” Crocodile said. “I’m a sandman. This is a desert. There are dozens of other desert countries on the Grand Line, I just so happened to end up here.I passed through Alabasta in my earlier days. I just happened to  remember the island, and that’s it. I’m sure you’re aware I don’t have a crew or anything anymore, so I decided to settle.”He grinned a cruel grin as he leaned back a little, resting in his seat like a predator catching sight of his prey. “And Alabasta is fairly early in the Grand Line. After Reverse Mountain, a lot of youngsters end up here, thinking they have the potential to make it in the world of piracy… I enjoy weeding out the worthless trash that dreams big. The Grand Line is no place for dreams. They better learn that early on.”

 

Cobra nodded slightly and was lost in thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he expected Crocodile to answer, but it wasn’t this. Him wanting to settle in a desert made enough sense, but it seemed so… _simple_.

 

Compared to that, his cruel wish to eliminate rookie pirates seemed so more like him, coming from a more seasoned pirate. Well, a Shichibukai. And for some reason, while Cobra appreciated Crocodile’s efforts to protect his country, for a moment he thought about all these young men and women who were only just starting their adult lives, only to be shattered by a man like him… So many individual stories.

 

And then he remembered the headlines about Crocodile and Whitebeard, and realized Crocodile was a story just like them.

 

There was a pause while Cobra stared out, lost in thought. Crocodile watched carefully, and finally chuckled. With the cigar burned out, he refilled his glass to have something to do, and while he was at it, filled the one Cobra had brought with him right after. Cobra was visibly startled at the gesture, but said nothing.

 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Crocodile when he settled back, nursing his wine. “All the precious lives I snuff out? Don’t ridicule yourself…These are pirates. They chose their life.”

 

Cobra was a little surprised Crocodile figured him out so well, but he only shrugged a little, taking his glass for a sip. He had already finished a glass or two just because of the social involvement, and now he was careful to not overindulge. Still, again, declining would probably anger Crocodile, and an angry Shichibukai was the last he needed.

 

“I can mourn senseless slaughter and still appreciate the protection you grant my country,” he said finally. “I am a king, but I’ve not stopped being a person.”

 

“That is such a you thing to say,” Crocodile said with a snort. The remark was expected, but Crocodile’s attitude surprised him. Cobra was ready to comment on it, but then he noticed Crocodile’s glass was near empty again. He hadn’t paid much attention, but he figured Crocodile’s unusual talkativeness was at least partly due to this. He was still rude, but Cobra thought he should take advantage of the situation as much as he could, while Crocodile’s temperament allowed it.

 

Taking a breath and smiling, he asked about Rainbase, how Crocodile liked the town, how the casino was doing, how the bananadiles were behaving. Crocodile answered every single question without avoiding the inquiry, even taking the time to elaborate on a few. The banadiles, for example, took up another glass and several minutes of conversation. He really seemed to care for the creatures. Cobra added that to the list of things that surprised him about Crocodile, and was beginning to think he might’ve been wrong about him. This was becoming more of an actual conversation, with Crocodile pausing in his words, waiting and allowing Cobra to make a retort or to add on his opinion. What’s more, the man would give an occasional nod and agree with him. Crocodile seemed to be in a really good mood. Cobra watched the bottle of wine on their table get emptier and emptier, until finally Crocodile poured him the last little bit.

 

“Greedy to take the last glass from the king,” he commented. “Learned that at a king’s court.”

 

“Is that so?” said Cobra, carefully lifting his glass to his lips without drinking. “You did mention the royal families earlier. You know many of them?”

 

“Enough to have an elaborated opinion,” Crocodile said, waving his hand dismissively. He started to search his coat for his cigar case, and Cobra noted how unsteady his hand was moving. Gaze shifting from Crocodile to the bigger part of the hall, aside from the hustle and bustle, he met Igaram’s eyes. There was a short nonverbal communication, Igaram begging him to be careful and Cobra shrugging with a little eyeroll. Crocodile had never been so harmless before.

 

He noticed something else, though. People were moving. It was beginning to get more crowded. People were entering the hall through the doors from outside, moving about. Everything grew just a little louder. Cobra leaned back, turning his head to one of the huge windows covered by precious veils. “It started to rain,” he commented, watching the water run down the rainbow colored glass. “I hope it’s just a quick shower… otherwise the common folk will be done with the festival for tonight. What a shame.”

 

“A little rain never stopped people from having fun if they want to have it,” Crocodile retorted with a shrug. “Getting wet will stop nobody tonight.”He had, in the meanwhile, managed to get a cigar from his case, tucked it between his teeth, and then proceeded to forget about lighting it with the distraction.

 

Cobra watched him for a moment as his gaze was still on the windows, and then got to his feet. “Let us move,” he suggested. “There are plenty of people here who will want to sit after their long day of work… and we can easily move to one of the less crowded parts of the palace.”

 

He watched Crocodile get up, a little worried to see a man as gigantic as him stagger to his feet. He was about to ask if he was alright, but thought Crocodile might consider it rude, and decided against it. Plus, Crocodile looked relaxed. The furrows on his forehead, and the strict line of his mouth were gone. Cobra didn’t want to ruin it.

 

He waited for Crocodile to follow him and then lead the way through the hall, away from the secluded sitting area by the far side. He thought of leading Crocodile away to one of the smaller rooms, maybe the one where the food was offered on tables, and people were busy eating, and the music wasn’t as loud, and the people more behaved.But they needed to get through the crowded throne room first. People made way for the king of course, and being followed by Crocodile certainly helped. At the same time, it was such a sight to behold the two most important men in the country together that people actually came up to have a word. Cobra had to stop to greet and shake hands with someone every few steps.

 

Crocodile endured the same fate. And once people noticed he was in a good mood, they quickly lost their—usually very justified, Cobra thought—fear. Soon they were approaching him just as much as himself. They were more careful about touching him. He was holding a new glass of wine in his hand—and Cobra wondered where they were coming from at this point—though it was a very good defense mechanism and excuse  to not shake hands with people. Everyone was too tactful to make Crocodile get rid of the glass to have his one hand free.They still came to bow in front of him, look up with respect and offer a few words of admiration and thankfulness.

 

Cobra watched carefully from the corner of his eye while he talked to his subjects. “You’re very patient today,” he said to him in the split second that they were left alone.

 

Crocodile shrugged. “I knew this would happen. If I didn’t want to deal with it, I wouldn’t’ve come.”

 

Cobra thought it was a very fair reason and nodded, only to be patted on the back by another person, shaking hands with another, speaking a few words, and making just a few steps of progress further to the door he was headed to. “I hope we’ll make it out of here alive,” he joked afterwards to Crocodile, who chuckled.

 

“Maybe we should split up. Making it less easy to spot us. We’re a walking target.”

 

Cobra laughed a little, surprised by the joke. And it was a joke, right? It couldn’t possibly be a real suggestion. No, it actually had been a joke. Sir Crocodile made a joke. He was too baffled to comment right back.Finally Crocodile asked, “So where are we headed, anyway? If we ever reach it, that is.”

 

“I thought of the balcony… it’s covered, so the rain will not be a problem, but it’s likely to be less crowded. You have a nice view over the city. With the festival going on, it looks absolutely stunning. All the lights, and the colors, even after nightfall… You really ought to see it.”

 

“So instead of sitting on your throne, looking at people worshipping you, you’d rather stand outside watching them? And in the rain?” Crocodile stopped to chuckle, and Cobra turned and watched as the chuckle grew to a laughter that left absolutely no doubt of the man’s alcohol level. “Cobra,” he said, and Cobra couldn’t find it in himself to be upset at all over the missing honorary titles. “You’re such a humble, low-key king.”

 

Cobra could hear murmuring taking place around him, people commenting on Crocodile’s rude behavior and blunt statement, but Cobra only shook his head and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “I pride myself on it.”

 

He watched Crocodile grin sharply at him, and gestured for a servant to take his empty glass from him. Crocodile was clearly drunk. Cobra felt a little lightheaded, but not as affected as him. He appreciated how honest the alcohol was making Crocodile. He showed a lot of surprising, unexpected sides, and it was easier to get along with him like this, no matter how rude he was, how challenging. Cobra didn’t mind the insults, and behind it all, he now had a good idea of whom he was talking to. This was so much better than the scheming pirate who came to his country, asking him to build a casino right on top of a sacred oasis.

 

“Actually,” he said with a smile while Crocodile was still laughing to himself, “let us go somewhere else first. There’s something I need you to see.”

 

He turned away from the door they had been headed to, leading them to and exit on the left. The doors were smaller, and not flanked by guards like the ones to the balcony, so it was easy for them to sneak by without catching any unwanted attention.

 

Crocodile followed Cobra away from the hall, and they left the noise and music behind them as they walked. Even in his current state, Crocodile realized the second the doors closed behind them that this was the first time he was actually alone with the king. The guards, his loyal pets included, were left behind to continue to do merry. Crocodile was sure they didn't even know the king was leaving.

 

It would’ve been so easy. With Cobra just an arm's reach away, all he needed to do was touch him. Cobra would would turn to dust, never to be seen again. There wouldn’t even be a body to mourn and put in their fancy crypts. The thought excited Crocodile.

 

He lifted his arm up, hardly noticing how heavy it had gotten since he arrived, and just barely covered his mouth in time to muffle his laughter.

 

Cobra apparently heard him, interpreting his laughter as a result of his overindulgence, because he smiled when he turned. “I’m glad you managed to enjoy yourself. A lot of people came,” he said. “I’m sorry for putting you in the spotlight like this. I know you’re not comfortable with crowds.”

 

Crocodile gladly took the distraction of another light conversation. “Don’t worry,” he began, lifting both arms out in exaggerated gestures. The weight of his hook caused him to sway slightly to the side. “It’s not that bad,” he reassured. “But I appreciate your concern.”

 

Cobra nodded a little, and continued to lead the way down the halls, looking over his shoulder every once in a while. Crocodile couldn’t imagine why. The palace was eerily empty, and Crocodile didn't see or hear any guards. After they left the noise of the party, everything grew quiet, laughter replaced with the light, soothing sounds of sprinkles hitting the windows. Increasingly lightheaded, and his movement sluggish, he wondered where Cobra was taking him.

 

“There’s a little something I wanted to give you,” Cobra said as if on cue. He stopped and turned around, reaching out and resting a hand on Crocodile, a combination of his warm behavior and slight concern. Crocodile stared at the hand, but wasn’t quick enough to comment on it before Cobra continued. “I know you said you need no thanks for what you do, but consider this a gift from me not as a king, but as a thankful man. Without you, Alabasta would be a different country. I’m deeply indebted to you.”

 

Crocodile chuckled, but only because he thought the irony of it all was hilarious. Cobra continued to amuse him to no end. “If you insist,” he said with a grin. “Turning down the king would just be plain rude. I suppose I have no choice.”

 

“I told you, don't consider this an official, political thing,” Cobra said. He patted Crocodile’s shoulder before returning to the double doors they stopped at. “Consider this a token of our developing friendship.”

 

He pushed open the doors to a room, and following, Crocodile saw it was most likely a treasury. It wasn't like there was gold spilled on every tile, but the robes and jewelry on display told him enough.

 

He let Cobra lead the way, taking his time to rest his gaze on the luxurious selections of fine Alabastan clothing and artifacts that aligned the room’s walls and display cases. The sight of ancient tables, vases, plates, and other adornments caught his attention, and once again Crocodile discovered himself swaying a bit, this time towards anything that looked like it might be worth his bounty several times over.He knew Alabasta was no poor country, but actually seeing what riches were secretly hoarded in the palace’s chambers made him almost physically ache to have it all for himself with a childish greed he didn’t know from himself.

 

“Don’t fall behind,” he heard Cobra say ahead of him, followed by a lighthearted chuckle. Crocodile blinked, forcing some sobriety into his distracted mind. He rubbed the side of his head as he carefully followed after Cobra, doing his part to not come too close to anything, in case he was as drunk as he felt. But despite this slight annoyance, something inside of him grew increasingly eager. Each gold encrusted plate, hand-sewn tapestry, and delicately crafted robe drew his attention and made him all the more curious as to see what Cobra wanted to offer him.

 

It was a strange feeling, to be so excited over treasure. Crocodile hadn’t felt so anxious to get his hands on worthless jewelry in a very, very long time.

 

“This,” Cobra said, pointing to a display with several various necklaces, rings, and beaded jewelry, “is what I wanted to show you.” He smiled up at Crocodile, taking his grin for granted and continued, “I figured, with this being the end of the rain seasons, that handing you a piece of jewelry adorned with the mighty crocodile might be…a tad cheesy.”

 

Crocodile sniffed. “You think?”

 

Cobra shrugged off his remark with a chuckle. “Very. But considering that you’ve done nothing but supply this country with fortune, I decided to hand this to you in private and save ourselves the embarrassment.” He lifted the case open, and Crocodile had to stop his jaw from dropping at the rows of carefully decorated jewels, each one possessing at least a few bright gemstones, and at the center of each one was a variation of the crocodile. Crocodile had little understanding of Alabastan history—he was sure Robin would have gotten excited about seeing this just as much as him, but for different reasons—but he knew about gemstones and gold and craftsmanship. This was no rummage. This was serious loot. “The ones on the left are intended for women to wear,” he heard Cobra continue. “Not that I’d stop you from selecting one.”

 

The king wanted him to choose? Crocodile peered down at the large golden bracelets, at the emerald scales that still carried a bright shine to them despite looking ancient. He moved on to the necklaces and right away felt they were too much. A simple necklace was one thing, but there were layers of beads and precious stones all over them, and accompanying them were several cheery looking golden crocodiles. He lifted his hand away from them, no longer feeling ashamed for some of the things he sold at Rain Dinners. How on earth did these kings and queens go about wearing this stuff with a straight face? Religion or not, it all felt like too much.

 

Finally, Crocodile set his sight on the rings. A smaller, gold ring with a garnet stone in the center caught his attention. It lacked the luster of some of the other rings, and the gold reptile holding the stone together was worn in its design, but Crocodile figured it was an older artifact. Seeing that this was a gift, and Crocodile, while drunk, was still a practical man, the ring’s simplistic design made it something he could actually see himself wearing.

 

He picked the gold ring up, and Cobra grinned. “You like that one?”

 

Crocodile inspected the ring before giving a slight nod. “It’s a good ring,” he replied, testing the size with his pinky finger.

 

“That one is about 500 years old,” Cobra said, earning another shrug from Crocodile.

 

This time Crocodile couldn’t hide his disdain for the long history lessons. He smirked and chuckled as he pushed the golden ring down his pinky, doing very little to hide his amusement. The new ring sat snugly, but not too tight, right next to his aquamarine one.

 

“Boring you already?” Cobra asked. Crocodile snapped his head up, and Cobra grinned at him. “That’s quite alright. I don’t expect someone to tolerate everything I say after so many drinks. And you clearly value the ring’s worth more than its history.” He felt Cobra slap his hand against his back. “It’s interesting, because this ring was produced after the events of a long drought. The ring…” He looked up at Crocodile and chuckled again. “This ring…was made after the royal family made several sacrifices to the ancient crocodile. After that the rains came. It’s a… tribute, if you will. You picking it up really seems most fitting.”

 

Crocodile looked down at the jewel he’d been offered, the irony behind it all too much to bear. And the look on Cobra’s face, despite sprinkled with a mild blush, indicated that he was somewhat serious when he described the story.

 

“What a crock of shit,” he said, lifting his hand up to the light, staring at the brightened garnet before adding a quick laugh.

 

“Now, don’t be like that,” Cobra chuckled. He crossed his arms and sighed. “Drunk or not, you have to admit there’s a certain amount of romance and wonder to the story.”  

 

Crocodile lowered his hand and smirked at Cobra. He supposed there was little he could do to actually offend the king, not with him being so understanding of his current state. Considering how nice the ring was, and how good he felt, he wasn’t sure if attempting to attack Cobra with harsh words was the right way to go about it. Really, he had a decent time at the festival, he rather enjoyed the time spent at the party, and this ring as well, though it wouldn’t compare to the rest of the treasure he would one day be in possession of.

 

His smirked eased when he saw Cobra grinning back at him, more amused by his drunken honesty than irritated by his lack of humbleness. Perhaps the king thought he might show some gratitude later, once he sobered up a bit? Or was this just Cobra being his usual, cheery self? It was impossible to tell with the room spinning as it was. His mind wandered in several different directions. He was frustrated that Cobra wasn’t upset, but glad that the man thought they were on the same side. Friendship, Cobra had said. He liked the ring. He wanted Pluton. He wanted to wipe that grin right off of Cobra’s face.

 

It was then he noticed how warm the treasury had gotten, combined with that old, yet familiar feeling of being trapped within himself. As Cobra closed the display case, all Crocodile could think about was how stuffy it was, how small the room was, and how the two of them were stuck in it.

 

“Sir Crocodile?”

 

Surprised by the sound of his name, Crocodile blinked and turned to Cobra. He saw the way Cobra eyed him, filling with growing concern, looking less like a king and more like the humble man he prided himself in, and it pissed him off. He wore robes that certainly were worth more than Crocodile’s carefully tailored clothes. The necklace alone looked like it was worth more than the average Alabastan family earned in a year. There was thread made from gold woven into his robes! And he knew Cobra didn’t care about this at all. If anything, he hated being dressed up like this.

 

“You look like you could use a seat,” Cobra muttered as Crocodile was staring at him, taking a step forward and reaching out to Crocodile. His hands gripped both of his arms, firm and yet oddly comforting. “I’ve prepared enough rooms, I’m sure we’ll be able to find you a bed to rest in. You drank too much.”

 

Cobra’s touch continued to echo in his mind. That claustrophobic feeling was welling up inside of him, and there was an immediate desire to let it out. Cobra hands sliding up his arm, invading him without consent, only added to the confusion. Crocodile lifted his hand, to get away, or at least he thought that was the goal. The moment he swatted Cobra’s hand away with his own he took a step towards the man instead of back, and was reaching out to grab him. He didn’t need Cobra to mother him, and clearly the king needed to be reminded who was in charge. But instead of roughly grabbing Cobra’s shoulder to push him off of him, somehow his hand got lost and ended up tangled in his hair. Crocodile realized this, but instead of pulling away, he let his hand go deeper, much to Cobra’s dismay. Cobra’s hair was warm, and thick, and like nothing he had ever felt. Despite the humid heat all around them, his hair was dry. Crocodile found himself drawn to this feeling.

 

He took another step, completely removing the space between them. Crocodile was sure there was something in the air, aside from the moisture collected between him and Cobra. Maybe it was the ambiance of the party taking place, somehow traveling and making its way into this secluded space. He could believe it; he most certainly felt it. Even Cobra, who finished backing himself into a wall, appeared to be slowly processing these new feelings. His carefully combed and braided hair was a mess with Crocodile’s hand in it, twirling and curling and tugging, but the king didn’t try to fight his hand. He looked up at him, pupils dilating under Crocodile’s large shadow, the tipsy blush replaced with a deeper shade of shock, confusion. But, ultimately, there seemed to be a weird acceptance of the strange turn of events, and finally he managed a very nervous smile.

 

“My, my,” Cobra muttered. His voice betrayed his smile, shaken and silent. His eyes shifted, looking at the way Crocodile’s large hand continued to play with his hair. “You’re rather touchy when you’re drunk. But it’s alright, I’m flattered that—”

 

Crocodile forced his leg between Cobra’s and slowly began to lift it, feeling the weight of the robes gather as he slid it upwards, stopping when he felt the collective heat between Cobra’s legs. Startled, Cobra jumped, hands darting to Crocodile’s chest to push against him, but there was no real force behind it when Crocodile rubbed his kneecap against the gathered fabric. Cobra eyed him like an animal not quite yet captured, but waiting that precise moment when to flee. The thought made Crocodile chuckle again before dipping his head down, his left arm leaning against the wall and trapping Cobra underneath him. His fingers curled and grabbed the king’s hair again, providing just enough pull for him to be aware of what was happening. He continued to press and rub his knee against the fabric again, and this time he was given a more satisfying, albeit reflexive reaction from Cobra.

 

“…This,” Cobra gasped, trailing off like at a loss for words. Crocodile watched the king lower his stare down at his own arousal, his smile erased and replaced with an open mouth; expression filled with fear and shame.“This is incredibly inappropriate,” he finished with some struggle.

 

His opened frown drew Crocodile closer, and without thinking he let go of Cobra’s tangled hair, reaching out and grabbing the man by the chin, lifting his face up with minimal force, and brought his mouth to his. He felt Cobra grab his coat, perhaps an attempt to appear less willing than what his mouth was hinting at, because he felt Cobra’s jaw relax and lips part further to allow Crocodile the access he desired, and the moan that escaped him wasn’t loud enough to alarm anyone unlucky enough to pass by.

 

With Cobra complying underneath him, Crocodile let go of his face, hand frantically grabbing on to the shoulder, the arm, whatever it could latch on to, if only to continue testing his limits before realizing he had the _king of Alabasta_ against the wall, holding on to his shirt and rubbing himself against his knee. His gold hook slipped up the wall as he stumbled forward, taking Cobra’s bottom lip in his teeth, and tasting the heat of it with his tongue. His hand slipped between the layers of light cloth, and underneath he felt the hot contours of Cobra’s chest, heaving under his touch.

 

The vibrations, the sensations and sounds soon became too much for Crocodile to think about. He was drunk, yes, but not unreasonable. Even without the alcohol, he figured, nothing would change. His movements would be steadier, and the room wouldn’t spin as much as it did, but the creeping, overwhelming desire to do this would be the same. The further he pried into Cobra’s mouth, tasting a mixture of sweet and spices and alcohol, the less his mind lingered on just what exactly he was doing. His hand slid up the chest, taking colorful shades of cotton and silk with it, feeling heat and shivers on top of smooth skin, erect nipple, and collarbone. Everything was covered by a layer of sweat, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to grab the hair again, pull it and tug it some more, draw Cobra closer against his own body with it, but he missed, hand sliding along the wall, catching his weight as he leaned forward and deepened the kiss. He closed his eyes and felt Cobra reciprocate, uttering weak moans while rubbing himself against Crocodile, no longer seeming to care of his erection pushing through the fabric. Out of breath and nearly out of his mind too, Crocodile broke the kiss, licking his lips and breaking strands of saliva.

 

“Your Majesty,” Crocodile huffed, wiping his face as he took a step back to catch his breath. A cruel grin emerged as he watched Cobra avert his stare, his shaking hand grabbing loose cloth and struggling to fix his outfit into place. “Cobra…”

 

“There was a lapse in my conscience,” the man muttered, trying to slip away with the little space between them. “Whatever that was...is gone now.”

 

“Oh, do you really mean that?” Crocodile asked, slamming his hand back down on the wall, stopping Cobra from getting away. He watched Cobra bite his lip, turning his stare away from the arm that blocked his path, and back up to him. “Because I don’t think you do… No, not with the way you’re staring up at me. Not with those eyes, _Your Highness_.”

 

He raised his hook up and pulled at the loose robes, exposing the shoulders, red and hot with the blood flow underneath, dark skin and hair raised up even from the slight contact. Cobra stumbled back against the wall, grabbing the robes and hurriedly fixing them into place before looking back down, painfully noting the tented portion of his dress, and then beyond at the floor.

 

“I do,” Cobra muttered, keeping his face hidden from Crocodile’s view. “And I demand you get out of my way, Crocodile.”

 

“Ordering me around?” Crocodile asked before letting out a sharp laugh. “How very unlike you, Cobra.” He grabbed Cobra by the shoulder, startling him and forcing him to look back up at him. “Again and again you tell me, and your people, how much you pride yourself in walking the path of a regular man, instead of a king. And now you’re telling me that you want me to get out of your way? After rubbing against my leg like a boy and moaning like a whore? I don’t think so, Cobra.”

 

Cobra said nothing. He remained staring up at him, everything shaking, his body visibly hot now. Too hot. The man was half naked and drenched in sweat and goosebumps, hair and beaded jewelry askew, and witnessing it only made Crocodile realize how constricted and confined he felt in his own clothes.

 

Crocodile grinned at Cobra, releasing his grasp on the shoulder, replacing its presence with his hook and resting it just under Cobra’s chin. “So you’re a man before anything else, right? Just as primitive and simple as everyone else. How long has it been?” He raised Cobra’s chin up, forcing him to stare up at him with needy, fearful eyes. “If you insist on being a king, of course, then you should call for the guards. I’m sure there must be a few around. Scream loud, and they’ll save you from the disobedient pirate.”

 

He brought his hand to Cobra’s face, letting fingers delicately lace down before latching on to hair. He watched the way Cobra’s stare went lidded for just a second before widening once again, and he laughed and brought himself closer to him, relishing in the way Cobra tried to avoid looking at him.

 

“I know you won’t call for them,” he whispered into the man’s ear. His hand pulled down several locks braided with beads, tugging with enough force so that Cobra had to tilt his head. He winced and frowned and huffed, but didn’t call out the guards. He didn’t even ask for him to stop. “Because you know you’re just a man,” Crocodile continued, letting go of Cobra’s hair once again in favor of rubbing his hand on the heated shoulder, “and every man has his needs, _Cobra_.”

 

He watched Cobra shake his head, his hand letting go of his robes, allowing a few colorful layers drop and hang loosely above the floor. “This is wrong.”’

 

Crocodile loved the weak excuse. It was like Cobra was already admitting he was right. Crocodile lifted his chin up and lowered his head, until there lips were almost touching. He felt Cobra’s exhale against his lips, steamy air hitting his face and causing a tense, warm ache to spread across his nether regions. His pants had stopped being comfortable a long while ago. His mind went numb as he smiled against Cobra’s frown. “Well,” he murmured, “nobody will know if you don’t tell them.”

 

He heard Cobra’s hand hit the wall behind him. Drops of sweat rolled down Crocodile’s neck as he swallowed, waiting to see what Cobra would do. He felt some movement, Cobra dropping his other hand, his only guard between their bodies, and watched him turn his head away as the rest of his top began to slip off his shoulders. Crocodile got his hook out of the way and brought his mouth down over Cobra’s, pulling the man’s lips in with his own. He tasted the exotic combination of spiced wine and guilty satisfaction, Cobra breathing shallowly through his parted mouth, exhales coming out as weak moans now.

 

He felt shaking hands grab on to his sides, unsure of what to do. Crocodile smirked through the kiss as he watched Cobra’s pupils begin to tremble and fill up with immediate regret. Before he could think to change his mind, Crocodile brought his hand down, fighting through falling layers of clothes, grabbing some soft silk or cotton and wrapping it around Cobra’s heated erection. His thumb pressed hard against the tip, while his ringed fingers rolled across the covered length, supplying a firm warm grip around it. He rubbed his hands against the soft cloth, engulfing the head with an intrusive massage, and Cobra moaned into his mouth, far louder than before. Finally, he felt Cobra attempt to push away from him, giving up halfway until he managed to break the sloppy kiss.

 

“Crocodile, please!” the man begged, chest heaving and hands pressed firmly against the wall. “The robes…”

 

“Hmm?” Eager as he was to take Cobra right there, the mention of clothes distracted him enough to wonder what excuse the king had come up with now.

 

“The robes,” Cobra weakly repeated, face turning impossibly red with humiliation. “Someone worked really hard on them…”

 

Crocodile lowered his stare at his hand wrapped around the older man’s erection. Even with his shadow blocking the light, he could make out an emerging stain. “Oh, I see,” he said with a chuckle. He refrained from going beyond a quick laugh. Cobra’s shame-ridden face said enough. The man wanted the attention, but no proof of it ever occurring. Crocodile was fine with it, so long as Cobra was aware that he was asking for it. “Well, we wouldn’t want to ruin the king’s fine party robes, would we?” He took a step back, letting go of Cobra and lifting his arm away from him. “Go ahead then,” he said with a grin spread from ear to ear, “take it off.”

 

Cobra stared apathetically at him, his hands trembling as he brought them to the colored sash, the only thing holding everything together at this point. Crocodile took another small step back, letting some light in the way so he could witness Cobra struggle between keeping his honor and giving into long deprived psychical urges. His mind was spinning under the influence of all the alcohol he consumed, but at that moment, when Cobra let go and pulled at the sash, letting it fall and the layers of brightly colored robes spill down his slanted shoulders, exposing the rest of himself to Crocodile, not as a proud king, but a broken man, he sobered right up.

 

Despite his age and position, Cobra possessed a lean, but not weak physique. There was some muscle. Cobra was handsome enough, in a way, lacking the soft curves that one might expect from a man living it up in the palace. No, underneath the robes was a well cared for body, still healthy and showing signs of activity. Crocodile huffed at the sight and felt his own body react. The king undressed for him, showed himself naked and exposed, standing aroused with his back to the wall in his own treasury. He had considered waiting for Cobra to grab the clothes and move them aside, but instincts and desire regained control. Surrounded by all this _worthless_ loot Crocodile coveted with an almost sickening desire in his intoxicated state, Cobra was just one of many spoils he wanted for himself, nothing more.

 

He pushed the robes away with the side of his shoe, and then, without warning, grabbed Cobra and had him up against the wall. He heard a gasp from Cobra as his skin made contact with the cool alabaster wall. He hissed through a grin before bringing his lips to Cobra’s shoulder, biting down and getting his first taste of sensitive and sweaty skin. Cobra’s loud pants and sighs were all the permission he needed to continue traversing the rest of the king’s body. His hand spread across hot flesh, feeling wet muscles and hairs underneath. His mind fixated on the heavy breaths, on hands smacking the wall and him, on a leg lifting and rubbing his side, and the eerie sound of something ringing in his ear.

 

Crocodile had teased him when he said he was only a man, but right now, he was even less. Cobra’s erection was pressed against him, neglected and glistening at the head, and Crocodile thought for a moment about his own ignored arousal. He lowered his hand down, and felt the tip of Cobra’s penis, hot and stiff and dripping with precum, so sensitive that he felt Cobra shudder and muscles contract with his slight touch. Cobra groaned and practically begged for more attention, and Crocodile, at this point, was more than eager to provide. He let go of the shoulder, licking his lips and staring at the marks he left behind, sure and satisfied that it would leave a blemish for Cobra to worry over later.

 

“I can give you what you desire,” he murmured while letting the base of his palm slide across the head of Cobra’s erection. He heard another whimper from Cobra, followed by a quick nod. Crocodile chuckled as he lifted his hand away and brought it up for Cobra to see, rubbing his fingers together and spreading the thin film of moisture between. Cobra visibly faltered, unsure of what to make of the grotesque sight of Crocodile’s stained hand. Crocodile laughed. “I know it’s been awhile, and surely you’ve not done this before, but you are aware that we’ll be requiring some lubrication?”

 

Crocodile sure as hell didn’t care if Cobra would be in pain or not. But he regained enough composure, even now, to know that there were limits to what he could do and get away with. Realistically just about anything other than saliva would make for a better lube. But they were stuck in the treasury, and there was no way he would let Cobra leave the room. Crocodile knew once that happened it was all over. Cobra might have known as well, as Crocodile could see him battle with fear and acceptance as Crocodile brought his index and middle finger together, offering it up to him.

 

This was going to be Cobra’s last chance to back out of this, even if Crocodile wouldn’t let him. But he didn’t. He stood right there where he was, staring up at Crocodile.

 

“Understand,” Crocodile said with feigned concern, though he was sure his expression was giving him away, “I’m doing this to make it easier on you.” He rested his fingers on the bottom of Cobra’s lip, awaiting access. The man looked absolutely frightened by the prospects of having to take his fingers into his mouth, let alone his cock. The anxiety in his stare was enough for Crocodile to shift closer, knowing Cobra wouldn’t act on his own. His majesty clearly wanted to be forced. Crocodile shifted his leg, pushing it between Cobra’s to rub just a little, reminding him of what he wanted. The moment Cobra’s mouth opened with a faint moan, he edged his fingers closer, letting the middle graze the tongue, wriggle and coax Cobra into accepting both fingers. Cobra averted his stare, looking away as his tongue swirled around Crocodile’s fingers, coating them in a fine layer of saliva. Crocodile was close to using his hook to get Cobra to face him, but thought getting out of his own clothes was more important right now.

 

“Cobra.” Crocodile practically sang out his name. “Stay with me here. Undo my belt. I’d do it myself, but…” He lifted his hook up, earning yet another wince from Cobra. He was ready to add on, but Cobra complied without any further suggestions.

 

It was an exquisite sight. Crocodile couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Here was Cobra, naked, hair a mess and sucking on his fingers like some underfed child ready to be nursed, and struggling to undo his belt, to get that notch out of the way so his fingers could fight through the button and the pesky zipper. All Crocodile asked for was for him to remove the belt, but now he felt cool air reaching his skin, and Cobra’s shaking hands touching him, freeing his erection from his undergarments and exposing it to gentle grabs. And for what? Cobra wanted his cock. His eyes were filled with dread, but the rest of him wanted it, wanted it bad enough his that his mouth was drenched in saliva.

 

“Very good,” Crocodile said, congratulating Cobra and pulling his fingers out from his mouth. He stared at his hand, then back at Cobra. “Turn around, Your Majesty.”

 

“I-I have a question,” Cobra stammered, his eyes set on Crocodile’s erect penis.

 

“It’ll sting if you resist,” Crocodile stated, earning a worried stare from Cobra. He wasn’t worried. A little truth would not frighten Cobra away. He gestured vaguely with the hook. “I suppose if you’re really that worried, you can go down and try to further lubricate.”

 

He watched Cobra struggle to decide. Crocodile doubted Cobra was even into men, and didn’t expect him to willingly drop on his knees and suck him off just to ease a few moments worth of pain. But when Cobra shook his head, deciding that he would somehow manage with what little prep Crocodile had planned, something inside of him burned, and he was left with a hidden, almost obsessive desire to know what it might have been like to watch Cobra take him in his mouth.

 

Maybe another time...

 

Cobra turned around, hands on the wall, his legs spread apart, giving Crocodile ample enough space to proceed. His hook latched around a leg while he pressed his fingers against Cobra’s anus, skipping any comforting teasing or stroking, but pushed the fingers right in with some force. He felt Cobra’s muscles instinctively fight against him, but it didn’t stop him from pushing his fingers just a bit farther, determined to stretch Cobra out while earning a few more of those tantalizing moans. He fought against the contractions, scissoring his fingers and spreading the dwindling lubrication as far as he could go, already wishing he had just forced Cobra to take him into his mouth.

 

Crocodile sighed through his nose as he pulled out of Cobra to grab his own erection and press it against the man’s opening. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, gathering a small amount of saliva; spitting on his length and quickly spreading it over the head of his penis, listening carefully to Cobra’s heaving breaths, looking up and catching the way his shoulder blades shifted with each exhale. No, he wasn’t attracted to Cobra, but there was something about staring at his back and down the spine that he found aesthetically pleasing, dark skin glistening under a layer or sweat. It didn’t stop him from pushing his way into Cobra without any warning, nor did it persuade him to not ignore the gasps and whimpers that escaped from him as he continued to drive deeper into the man.

 

With tight muscles already contracting around him, Crocodile gave Cobra no time to recover. His hook cradled around Cobra’s leg, and his hand reached out and grabbed a portion of messy hair, keeping the man in place as he pulled out halfway, jaw dropping and head rising at the wonderful sensation surrounding him. His fingers curled and rubbed between the soft locks, still surprised at how dry and good they felt in his hand as he plunged back into Cobra, listening to the man beneath him let out a guttural moan. With his body now drenched in sweat, his mind numbing again and discovering a new, personal high, Crocodile leaned forward, putting some of his weight on Cobra to bear, and began thrusting into him, the sounds of him smacking into Cobra barely drowned out by their exaggerated moaning.

 

Cobra’s fingers curled and spread over the walls, helplessly looking for something to cling on to as his head was pulled back with each rough tug from Crocodile. He knew there had to be some pain, but Crocodile didn’t care, and by the looks of it, Cobra was starting to feel the same.

 

If only the Alabastans could see their king arch his back with each plunge, the way his shoulders shook and shivered as he began to pull out, his legs spreading further, barely able to hold this weight, and the long, animal like moans that escaped his lips as Crocodile continued to use him up, already spilling inside of him. If only anyone knew…

 

But Crocodile knew, and in a moment of clarity he realized again that he really was fucking Cobra against the wall, still baffled and incredibly excited and aroused by the thought.

 

“Good?” he asked, not because he cared for Cobra’s opinion, but only because he wanted to see him admit to liking this. He chuckled when he saw Cobra nod his head, hair falling down his shoulders as he did. “Good,” he growled, letting go of his hair to run his hand up Cobra’s body, from the hip to his spine, moisture from Cobra’s sweat covering his fingertips and palm. There was a very real desire to absorb it inside himself, to keep it for himself, something that Cobra’s body had produced just because of him, but Crocodile stopped being able to use his powers hours ago. He was left staring at the moisture, the glistening film on the back of his own hand, and when his gaze traveled from his hand down Cobra’s body, past where he could see himself fucking him and up his own chest, he could see his shirt was drenched. He felt it stick to his back. Cobra was naked and vulnerable, but Crocodile would be better off himself without being seen after this just as much.

 

“Look at you,” Crocodile said, panting. “I’m not even touching you…” Muscles contracted shortly after, and Crocodile lifted his head up towards the ceiling again, this time coming close to finishing.

 

His mind went blank as everything seemed to slow down for a couple of seconds. He saw Cobra falter and tremble, hands sliding across the wall, between his moans there was something like his name, and then he felt him finish. Crocodile clenched his teeth with a low grunt, hand grabbing the soft flesh of Cobra’s thigh. No matter how long he wanted this to last, he knew now he had to finish quickly, to not give Cobra a chance to come out of his compromised state and get away before he was done.

 

A couple more rough thrusts and he bent over Cobra’s back, face pressed against his neck, nose buried in his hair, surrounded by the faint smell of patchouli and lotus and all sorts of scents he didn’t have a name for as he came inside of Cobra. The noise Cobra made was very far away, and Crocodile allowed himself to close his eyes as he shivered and shook, hand clenching a fistful of hair, holding Cobra in place for as long as he needed.

 

When he opened his eyes and leaned back, panting for breath, his vision was blurry. He blinked against the swaying bright lights that danced before him, huffing just in case they were real and he could just blow them away. He could see his hand, the rings, glistening in the dim light, his sleeve crumpled. He felt better, but not sated. If anything, he wanted more.

 

He kept Cobra where he was for just a second longer as he calmed down, breath slowing down to become more regular and quiet again.

 

He looked up at the tapestry on the wall right above them, at the glass cases displaying all sorts of artifacts. The case that held the jewelry Cobra had offered him bore a smudged handprint. The room felt as stuffy and steamy as it had before, but now reeked of sex.

 

This was the morning of October 23rd, a Saturday, and Doflamingo’s thirty-fifth birthday. Crocodile didn’t know why that knowledge hit him right now, but it did. He sighed as he pulled himself out and fixed his clothes up quickly. Cobra slumped against the wall a little, knees weak when Crocodile’s weight was taken from him. He quickly grabbed his robes from the floor, throwing them around himself to cover himself up. Crocodile didn’t care.

 

He pushed back his hair. It had come loose, and black strands were sticking to his sweaty forehead. He tasted salt on his lips. Half dressed, Cobra turned, and they looked at each other, out of breath, disheveled, and both not really knowing what to say.

 

Crocodile willed a grin to his lips. He didn’t feel like acting, but he forced himself to play along just a moment longer until he was away. “Well,” he said finally. “I think that was a rather… unexpected turn in our agreement to work together.”

 

“I’ll say,” Cobra said carefully. He was slowly adjusting his robes some more, covering himself up.

 

He was a mess. Crocodile loved it.

 

He snorted a little. “I’m going to leave,” he said, his hand already on the latch of his belt. “You tidy up your clothes, and then go back to your party. We probably shouldn’t be seen leaving together.”

 

Cobra eyed him suspiciously. “Having experience with this sort of thing?”

 

Crocodile couldn’t help but think back to a lot of occasions like these, but with someone else. He snorted again, teeth clenched as he fought an uneasy feeling. “Careful, Your Majesty,” he said. He loosened his ascot, letting some cool air hit his sweaty neck. “I wish you fun for the rest of your festival. Thank you for the invitation… and the ring.”

 

Cobra made a face as Crocodile raised his hand up, exposing his new garnet ring to the light, letting it glisten and distract him as he made his way out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Crocodile woke, he was in his bed. There was no recollection of how he had gotten to the hotel, but this was better than most other outcomes. He did a quick check; he was undressed and, more importantly, alone. The hammering in his head told him he didn't stop drinking after the party. His next reflex was to turn to sand, and he was glad to find that he could, and for a second he considered just staying in bed as a pile of it and not having to deal with anything.

It was the noise that woke him. Crocodile winced and covered himself with several layers of sheets. It took him a while to register the rapping sound he heard was Robin knocking on the door and calling out to him.

"Boss, are you in there? It's past noon already."

"Don't come in," he groaned, barely able to even string together the sounds for coherent speech, but it seemed enough for her to leave. At least the knocking stopped.

Not happy to be greeted by daylight, he slowly raised himself to a sitting position.

Well. What do you do the morning after fucking the king? He couldn't help but be surprised at himself. And a little proud. He actually had so much control over Cobra that the king let him do all _that_ to him. It was a weird, but satisfying thought.

Still sweaty and not cleaned up from the party, he decided to head to the bathroom first and take a shower. After that he felt a little better. At least cleaner. Physically, not mentally. Oh there was no _regret_ about what happened, although now that he was sobered up and without the effect of the weather smothering his intellect to one of an animal in heat, he was a little surprised that he had been so… needy.

He left the bathroom to the living room, and checked the breakfast the hotel staff brought up, seemingly hours ago, because despite his instruction the bread was not even close to fresh out of the oven and the coffee was cold. He couldn't find it in himself to be bothered to complain about it as he picked up the newspaper and settled down to eat. He was fairly hungry.

As if the weather knew that yesterday's festivities marked the end of the rainy season, the sky was clear and without clouds. The sun shone brightly. It was a nice day.

Crocodile stared into the sky and knew he had to call Doflamingo soon. With the time difference between their countries, he only had a couple more hours before the day in Dressrosa was over. He didn't want Doflamingo to be mad. He really didn't. He wanted him to be happy and easy to deal with, especially because he knew Doflamingo would be none of these things should he ever learn what happened. Not that he would. Because he wouldn't.

He approached the den den mushi determined that Doflamingo would never know. As he waited for someone on the other line to pick up, he continued to reassure himself that what took place at the party was a whole other world. Doflamingo wouldn't find out. He couldn't possibly find out, being another world away from him.

"I was afraid you'd forgotten about me," he heard Doflamingo say. As enthusiastic as he tried to sound, Crocodile could tell he was tired.

He could only imagine what sort of partying went on at Dressrosa. At the very least his crew would have kept him entertained. Oh, but that wasn't how Doflamingo operated, not when he had an entire country of idiots worshipping the very ground he walked on. Chances were Doflamingo just got back from one of his many made-up holidays, this one centered around his birthday, and was spent after taking numerous hits, shots, and women.

It was so typical, wasn't it? Doflamingo was allowed to do this kind of stuff, but Crocodile wasn't? Honestly, it was only fair when Crocodile did the same as him.

"I tried," he managed to say without sounding too tired himself. Crocodile rested his elbows on his legs and wondered if his hook had always felt his heavy. Maybe he was still recovering from the alcohol?

"Going to send me some birthday kisses?"

If it was fair, then it shouldn't even be a problem. Why was he even putting this much effort into thinking about it?

"Unfortunately for you I've sobered up."

"You got drunk?" Doflamingo sounded astonished. Was him drinking that big of a deal? Was bringing it up even worth mentioning? "Must have been one hell of a party."

"On the contrary," Crocodile said. "It was rather uneventful. The alcohol was the only thing that kept me from going insane." He wondered if he said it too soon. Did he sound defensive?

If he did, Doflamingo took no notice. "Too bad I wasn't there, then. I haven't witnessed you drunk in forever."

"And that's for the better." Crocodile stared at the cold coffee, wondering if he was desperate enough to drink it anyway. Doflamingo's chuckle lined up to the rhythm of the hammering in his head. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"So, when are you going to say it to me, then?" Doflamingo's words made his heart stop for a second. Crocodile clenched his hand around the receiver. Did he know? There was no way he could know. How the hell would he know?

"Say what?" he asked slowly.

"'Happy birthday,' you idiot," Doflamingo said, laughing through the line. Crocodile exhaled as he listened and waited for him to calm down. "C'mon, say it," Doflamingo almost begged. "Please?"

The sound of Doflamingo's laughter relieved Crocodile enough to forgo his usual cynical attitude and actually comply with the request. "Happy birthday, Doflamingo," he said.

"Wow, that almost sounded like you meant it," Doflamingo replied with another chuckle.

He didn't respond right away, and took a moment to relax and linger a bit on Doflamingo's laughter, his ignorance. He turned his gaze over at the window, spotting the palace in the distance. "I do mean it," he said, smiling to himself.

He did mean it. Doflamingo didn't suspect a thing. Crocodile nearly forgot about Doflamingo's birthday and drank his way into somehow fucking Cobra, and he was about to get away with both.

"When do you think you can be over?" he asked.

"What?"

Crocodile stood up, picking up the den den mushi and taking it with him. He stopped in front of the window and continued to stare out. "When do you think you can visit?" he asked again.

The last few times it had been Doflamingo asking for a date to see him. Crocodile wasn't a fan of placing Doflamingo in a position where he was in complete control, but he figured the gesture would be enough to remain on his good side. Best of all, Doflamingo might consider this subtle gesture a surprise birthday gift.

"Suddenly in the mood to see me?" Doflamingo asked.

"Something like that," he answered.

There was another chuckle on the line, and then Doflamingo said, with a mock uppity voice, "Well, unfortunately for you I've some business to attend to, so I don't know when I'll be able to squeeze you in—"

"Business more important than me?" Crocodile scoffed. For Doflamingo to play hard to get he really had to be in a good mood. "I'm not gonna ask again and you know it."

"Don't get jealous!" Doflamingo said with a playful pout so cheerful that it reminded Crocodile only of how sick he felt. "I promise I'll behave. I mean, it's a real shame too, it's not often I have you asking for some attention." Crocodile watched the den den mushi resting in his arms wriggle and smile up at him. "The moment I can get a week to myself I'll let you know."

"Good."

"And I mean right away," Doflamingo added. "You better answer the damn call."

"I will," Crocodile quickly responded, catching Doflamingo scoffing at his hasty reply before breaking into yet another chuckle, and then laughter. He was laughing.

Crocodile looked out the window, at the colorful buildings that almost obstructed his view of the palace. What happened last night seemed so far away. It was fun having the king of Alabasta underneath him while it lasted, but all of that was now behind him. All that was left to worry about now was getting the dance powder spread across the country, have Robin send in her reports, and remain on everyone's good side until he finally had Pluton.

Crocodile squeezed the receiver in his hand as he listened to just how excited he had made Doflamingo with that simple question, how happy. The sound of his laughter was almost deafening to Crocodile's still recovering mind, but he found it so contagious that he started laughing along, and for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

Robin smiled as she sat herself down across from him. "So you're finally up?" she asked.

Crocodile had just finished his talk with Doflamingo, humoring him with their little conversation when she finally decided to show her face again. He looked at her over the edge of his newspaper and back down to the article. "It's been a long night and I decided to sleep in."

From the corner of his eyes he saw her smile. It irritated him. "I know," she said. "I heard you come home. Had a fun time then?"

She had heard him? He had no recollection of how he got home himself. He shrugged and decided not to answer her question. "Find anything of importance?" he asked instead. "You had a job to do."

Nothing he ever did seemed to bother her, because she was still smiling. Sometimes he wondered if he only accepted her behavior because he was used to Doflamingo leering in his presence just as much. It was tiring.

"In a way, yes," he heard Robin say, and his head shot up. She raised her hand quickly. "Calm down," she added. "Not Pluton. But probably a process."

He settled back against the couch with a groan. "You're taking awfully long with this."

"It's a big country, and I am limited in my ways of investigating," she replied. "Actually, I have a favor to ask."

When he looked up there was also a furrow between her brows, and her smile was strained. She was worried. She still feared him. Good.

"Go on," he said with a generous grin.

"I need access to buildings that aren't open to the public," she explained, lacing her fingers into each other before resting them on her knee. "Breaking in is too risky in my position. Should I be found out, we'd both suffer from it. But you can get me in. With your high standing I'm sure you can arrange something with the king to get me into the more important buildings that are locked to the public."

Crocodile shirked the idea. After humoring and indulging Doflamingo's better side, the last thing he was in the mood for was a reminder of last night. "We could always have billions break in and scout," he suggested, but Robin shook her head.

"That won't do," she said. "Sending a couple of billions into the storage of the national museum of Alubarna… Not only wouldn't they be able to tell what's an important clue, but I'm also worried for the museum's artifacts. These people have no respect for the history of this country."

"Neither have I, Nico Robin," he reminded her. "I am tolerating your fancy for these things just because I hope it will be useful for me one day. So far, you're _not_ doing too good."

She ignored the threat. "I actually considered sending Miss Merry Christmas. It would be easiest for her to break in… But I think she's lacking the patience for such a delicate job, especially after all the time with Mr 4."

"Seems like a lot of patience to me," Crocodile said dryly, and Robin laughed. He looked at her with more irritation.

With everything he put the king through he doubted Cobra would want to have a word with him. Then again… Cobra was a man. He would know better than to bring up the topic, right? With the stress of running a kingdom, the last thing Cobra needed to do was run himself deeper into a mess by bringing up last night's liaison.

If need be, Crocodile supposed he could always threaten Cobra with giving away details of last night to the public. Oh, but that was beyond him. No, that was an act used by the common whore. As far as he still knew, he and Cobra were on good terms. Even if Cobra regretted last night, Crocodile knew as long as he approached the situation carefully, he couldn't be accused of abusing his power.

That was the plan then. He wouldn't bring up last night at all, and hopefully Cobra would do the same. No matter how tempting it might be, he'd keep his mouth shut on the matter, and act respectful in public. There was a chance Cobra would reject his request, but at least Crocodile could leave the scene knowing he was the "better man."

"Fine, I'll talk to the king," he said. "But don't expect any immediate results. Despite my current position, I'm still a pirate. I can think of several reasons why Cobra might not want me or any of my associates in restricted areas."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Robin said as she got up and walked over to the door. "You seem to have the king in the palm of your hand. He'll do what you want."

He couldn't stop the mental image and the memory that her words caused. He wanted to say something, but she was already gone.

* * *

Nefetari Cobra thought the weather was much too nice for such a horrible day. The sun was shining and it was warm, neither too hot nor too humid. Even in his bedroom he could hear the calamity of people cleaning up the palace and the plaza outside after yesterday's festivities. He wondered how late it was. Usually he rose early, but apparently he slept in today. He got up, pushed back his hair and swung his legs out of the bed.

That was a mistake. Stinging, sharp pain shot through his body, making him cringe and moan. What had he been thinking... No amount of alcohol could ever justify what happened last night. He severely misjudged himself yesterday. And apparently, Crocodile too... In so many regards.

Cobra carefully got up to his feet. He felt sticky and dirty. He needed a bath. He didn't feel like talking to one of the servants, so he carefully wandered over to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. It wasn't the royal baths, but right now he didn't feel much like royalty anyway. If anything, yesterday had been humbling.

He ran himself a bath, not bothering with any luxurious oils and bath salts, only shedding his nightgown and dipping into the water, thankful when he felt his muscles relax and soften. He wasn't sure how long he rested in the bath, but the water was barely lukewarm when he remembered that he promised Vivi they'd spend some time together and talk about the party. Not quite ready to leave his private quarters and face the world, Cobra was slow getting out of the tub, drying himself off and leaving the bathroom.

The events that took place afterwards were a blur to Cobra. Despite his best efforts to keep a low profile, servants approached him and inquired about his next meal, if he wanted to take it alone, in his bedroom, or with his daughter. Cobra wanted to suggest the former, but chose the later. One of the few pleasant things he remembered about the party was how happy Vivi had been. He was tired, his head ached and his lower back continued to shoot up a dull pain, but he wasn't going to take away time from his daughter.

And as he expected, Vivi had a lot to say about the party. While she hardly ate anything because she was talking so much, Cobra only picked at his meal, exhaustion suppressing his appetite. But he managed a few bites in between smirks and chuckles as he listened to her talk about all the people she danced with, how she got away with sneaking a few of her friends in, only to get caught and lightly scolded by Teracotta and Igaram. For a moment he was able to forget about the complaints, the drinking and Crocodile, and place his attention on something absolutely wonderful: his daughter's youth an innocence.

Cobra was sipping his black tea when Igaram walked in the dining room and announced that Sir Crocodile wanted another meeting with him.

"Pardon?" he asked, settling down his shaking cup. He was sure he misheard Igaram when the question arose. But his daughter made a face, and when Igaram shrugged he knew that was not the case.

"That's it," Igaram muttered, shaking his head while placing both hands on his side. "The man turned up and requested permission to see you again."

"He's here?" Cobra clenched his robes as he stared down at the table. "What else in the world does he want from me?"

"Sire?" Igaram asked, confused by the reaction.

"Do you know what for?" he asked quickly, doing his best to not show how nervous he was in front of his daughter and trusted associate.

"I'm afraid he was rather cryptic on the details," Igaram confessed, looking wary as Cobra unclenched his hand, resting it on his lap. "He mentioned wanting permission to tour a few buildings, but I'm not entirely sure why he would feel the need to ask?"

"Let him wait in one of the side rooms. Bring him as much food and drinks as he likes and tell him I'll be with him as quickly as I can." He felt so cheap as he said it, but there was something inside of him that made him so afraid Crocodile would tell anyone about what happened. Crocodile had never mentioned blackmail, but suddenly Cobra thought it was a very real possibility.

Last night had not only been a mistake, now it was also becoming a threat.

"I'm sorry, Vivi," Cobra said as he got up, deserting his half-finished meal. "We'll continue this talk later, is that okay?"

"Yes, papa," she said, but he could see in her eyes that she was neither happy nor convinced.

He smiled at her and ran his hand through her hair. "You've grown up so fast," he said and bent down to place a gentle kiss on her head. "It feels like yesterday that I could hold you in just one hand."

That made her smile, and glad that he could cheer her up at least a little he turned to Igaram. Cobra had known the man for many years, and knew the second he turned that Igaram knew something was up.

"Have you not slept well?" Igaram asked quietly as they walked down the halls together. Cobra knew there was no way Igaram would be able to guess what happened, but he was still anxious. "After the party at all figured we should give you some time to rest."

"A good idea, thank you," Cobra said tiredly, rubbing his temple. "It was... an exhausting evening."

"It was, Your Majesty," Igaram agreed. "I thought you left the party early when I didn't see you for the dancer's performance, but you were there again later when the rain stopped and the fireworks started. Where were you in between, if you don't mind me asking?"

Cobra flinched, but knew evading the question would do him no good. "A private conversation with Sir Crocodile," he answered. "After the talks with the officials we left the throne room."

Igaram looked surprised. "Yes, I remember that," he said. "What... what did he want?"

"Nothing," Cobra lied and told himself it was the truth. "I just gave him the ancient ring of Tamarisk as a gift for his services."

"You gave him treasure?" he heard someone ask. Cobra stopped and looked over his shoulder, spotting Vivi trailing after him and Igaram. "That man is a pirate!" she added, her usual politeness gone and replaced with surprise and disgust.

Cobra turned around and faced his daughter. With a small sigh, he calmed himself down and waited for her to do the same before responding. "Exactly. He doesn't care about anything else but loot." Cobra said it, and wondered if that was what last night had really been about. He saw her frown, but she didn't talk back at him. His eyes met with Igaram's, who looked concerned, but offered a small nod, accepting his king's decision. "And you have to think about it this way," he added with a small smile to Vivi, "he is a pirate, right? So we want him to be on our side. Offering a small ring isn't going to make Alabasta poor, but a well-placed gift can make a big difference in human relationships."

"I'm not so sure he's human," Vivi muttered, and Cobra wasn't sure if that was a very childish, or very wise thing to say.

"Shush," he said. "I told you, didn't I? At some point in your life you will have to do business with people you don't really feel like dealing with… It's part of growing up. And as the future queen, it's important you learn it." He sighed a little as he said it, holding her tiny hand in his. He felt like everything he was saying, he was saying just to reassure himself… He really didn't feel like talking to Crocodile again, but he knew he had to when the Shichibukai wanted him to.

How did he end up in such a powerless position?

Like ordered, Crocodile waited in one of the side rooms. Because he didn't know what would happen, Cobra sent Vivi off to play, and even got Igaram to leave him, so he was alone as he opened the room and found Crocodile comfortably lounging at a small table, lit cigar in an ashtray in front of him and a cup of tea while he waited. He turned his head when he heard Cobra enter.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," he said. Cobra looked for a sign, a twitch in the man's muscles, a furrow in his brows, anything that gave away how he felt, but Crocodile's expression was one of carefully constructed indifference. Cobra hoped he could do the same.

"Good afternoon," he replied politely, sitting down opposite of Crocodile. The scene felt awfully familiar. "I… did not expect to see you again so soon?" he said carefully when Crocodile took up his cigar.

"Something came up," Crocodile answered, "and I thought that while I'm still in Alubarna, I'd discuss matters with you personally rather than calling you or sending a letter."

"Well," Cobra said. "What can I do for you, then?"

"You're gonna be surprised," Crocodile said with a smirk, noticing Cobra's tense posture and the uneasy flickering of his eyes.

"You've been surprising me a a lot this past year, I'm sure one more time isn't going hurt," Cobra offered in what he hoped was a cheerful tone. "So, what is it?"

"I've been thinking," Crocodile said, placing the cigar back into the ashtray after taking a drag to have his hand free. He played with the garnet ring on his finger and made sure that Cobra noticed. "After what you said yesterday, the history of your country with the crocodile, me being here… Fate, I think you said…"

"You didn't seem very interested in it yesterday," Cobra said as he watched Crocodile. He was relieved Crocodile didn't bring up yesterday's events, but the conversation was still too close to the subject for him to think he got through this unharmed.

"Like I said, I've been thinking," Crocodile repeated, his voice a little harsher than he intended, so he huffed a little and willed himself to calm down. "I think I want to learn a little more about Alabasta's history with the crocodile. Do you think that'd be possible?"

Cobra blinked, feeling just a bit relieved before overtaken with disbelief. Was this all Crocodile wanted? "Certainly, I—"

"I wish to have access to a few of the secluded places where you store your country's history… For example, the storage of the national museum?" Crocodile took the cigar up again, gaze resting heavily on Cobra, who now seemed more confused than anything, and somehow looking less relaxed. Crocodile would kill to know what he was thinking.

Finally, Cobra regained enough composure to answer. "Well, technically that shouldn't be a problem…"

" _Technically?_ "

Cobra tried a crooked smile, but Crocodile's jarring stare remained. "I don't think the museum staff will be happy to have a pirate looking through their storage."

"If I was here to pillage and plunder like a regular, low-life pirate, do you really think I would be here, requesting your permission to do so?" Crocodile was rude as usual, but Cobra noticed that there was something different about his behavior. "Please. You should know me better than this," Crocodile muttered, turning his head and exhaling some heavy fumes.

Usually Crocodile would've blown smoke right into his face. Perhaps Cobra was overthinking it, he knew he was overly anxious as it were, but he was sure Crocodile purposely aimed away from him.

"You're aware of my powers, correct?" Crocodile went on, sounding calmer, almost tired as he rested his finger against his cup of tea. His body movement was casual, but it did nothing to ease the growing discomfort Cobra felt as Crocodile continued to stare him down. "I could easily break in and take whatever I desired."

"You certainly could," Cobra agreed, voice suddenly going quiet as his mind brought him back to last night.

"Nothing could stop me from ransacking a temple, take whatever precious materials I fancied, and leave the rest in tatters."

Cobra stared at him as he talked, answering his calm gaze with puzzlement of his own. Was it a coincidence that Crocodile chose those particular words? Cobra couldn't see any obvious signs that might indicate that Crocodile was thinking about last night, or that he was intending to even bring it up. If anything, he seemed even more indifferent than usual. No, he was probably imagining things. Crocodile would simply phrase it this way: he was a pirate. This was normal. This had nothing to do with him.

"But instead, I'm here, asking for your permission," Crocodile said, not blinking once as he looked Cobra in the eyes. He watched the king's pupils dilate a bit as he waited for his response. Cobra gave none and swallowed instead, bringing his hands together to look as though he was in deep thought. Crocodile knew better. The king lacked a poker face. He was visibly uncomfortable with this talk, but could do nothing about it. Crocodile knew as long as he remained polite and casual, Cobra could do nothing but return the favor and attempt to express similar feelings.

And Cobra was struggling just to do that.

"But if you're _that_ concerned," Crocodile continued, and he grinned when he noticed Cobra pull in his bottom lip just a smidge, "I can send someone in my place, to take any notes that might be of future interest."

Cobra lifted a hand up, and Crocodile noticed that it was shaking slightly before he gave a dismissal wave. "That won't be necessary," he said, looking almost embarrassed at the suggestion. "I'm sure if I have Igaram and some guards accompany you…"

"You'll be judged by the citizens," Crocodile interjected, smiling and shaking his head at Cobra when the king looked surprised. "Can you imagine their reaction if they saw me being guided around by guards?" he asked, and held in his breath, stopping himself from laughing when he saw Cobra lower his arm. "Even if you were to have your advisor explain where I was headed, people would just assume you don't trust me."

Cobra frowned. "I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. Considering the good impression Crocodile made at the party, it might seem inappropriate to have him surrounded by law enforcement just to look at a few artifacts. "But, if this is the case," he suddenly added, "wouldn't it make more sense to just send you alone? I cannot imagine notes providing you the same experience as one would touring a museum."

Did he really just suggest that it would be better to send Crocodile on his own? Cobra had heard what he said, but didn't want to believe it.

"Oh, don't worry," Crocodile said through a grin. Cobra could imagine the face he must have been wearing to earn such a smirk from the man. "I understand that a few of your citizens might still be wary of my presence, and personally, I find history boring after all... I intend to send someone who's more qualified, and who will be able to blend in while also taking careful notes on whatever they might discover in your storage facilities…" He paused to shift where he sat, grin not wavering. "Assuming you're fine with it? Obviously I'll need to ask that they be able to take their time as they peruse the storages in order to write down detailed notes."

"Yes, I imagine they would need time," Cobra muttered, barely loud enough for him to pick up on. He doubted Crocodile heard a word.

"Your Majesty?"

Cobra blinked and realized he was staring down at his own hands. He lifted his gaze up and saw Crocodile staring back at him, and that grin was gone. "Forgive me," he said, forcing a weakened smile in return. "I was lost in thought for a moment."

"You did seem rather distracted," Crocodile replied while reaching out for his cigar. "I hope what I said about the citizens losing faith in you didn't upset you too much." He brought the cigar up to his lips, letting a small frown break through his demeanor for a split second before covering it up with his hand and cigar.

Cobra blinked again. Was he seeing things?

"Actually," he heard Crocodile add, "now that I think about it, you were a touch out of it the moment you walked into this room." He blew out a long stream of smoke, and Cobra saw Crocodile once again avoid blowing it in his direction. "I do wonder...did something happen at the party? After I left?"

Cobra was ready to wince when the additional question caught him off guard. "Excuse me?" he nervously asked, his voice no longer hiding his increasing anxiety.

"I don't recall too much from last night, but I do remember the harsh critique thrown at you shortly after my arrival," Crocodile answered, twirling the cigar with his thumb and index finger. "Don't tell me once I left you were assaulted with more bothersome questions?"

Cobra felt sweat run down the back of his neck. Was Sir Crocodile really expressing concern for him? He wanted to believe it, but he was too tense to allow himself to.

"N-no," he answered. "I mean, that is to say, my mind was not on that particular issue, no." He rested his hands on his legs, feeling his fingers cling to the fabric as he watched Crocodile lean to one side of his seat, awaiting his explanation. "You see, when I heard you arrived to see me, I was…" He looked down and sighed at himself. He felt pathetic, but there was no helping it; he had to say it. "I'm ashamed to say I was afraid that you were going to bring up blackmail."

It stung to admit such a truth. Cobra was already regretting even bringing it up when he suddenly heard a light chuckle from Crocodile. He raised his head and saw him resting the side of his face on his hand, cigar tilted upwards with his grin.

"Really?" Crocodile asked, sounding neither surprised nor offended by his confession, only amused. "Well, I never would've guessed," he said before breaking into another fit of chuckles. "I guess you don't take advantage of your title as often as you should, not that I'm surprised."

Cobra opened his mouth, ready to respond to Crocodile's comment, but couldn't think of anything to say. His mind was at a blank, too astounded by Crocodile's attitude to come up with a reply. How was it that the man could be so casual about this?

"Such a shame too," Crocodile continued. "Were I king I'd make a point to engage in more nightly excursions."

Cobra would've probably felt offended by the remark, but the fact was that last night had happened and there was nothing he could do to change that. But he knew he had to say _something_. "You're...you seem to be taking this rather well," was all he could come up with.

Crocodile shrugged. "I'm not going to lie, it would be rather easy for me to spread rumors." He lifted himself up from his seat, his shadow overtaking a majority of the table, as well as Cobra, who had to lean back in his seat to look up at him. "But what good would that do?" Crocodile asked aloud. "After all, I want to stay in this country, and having you remain in good favor with me would be most beneficial."

Cobra moved to the edge of his seat as Crocodile slowly made his way around the table, carrying the cigar in his hand, hook swaying, and still grinning at him. Cobra recognized the smile, finding it disturbingly similar to the one Crocodile donned last night, though this one lacked the hunger from before. But it was a predatory grin, and it left Cobra weirdly curious to learn more about it.

"Why does it matter?" he asked, earning a raised brow from Crocodile. "What good does having my support do for you? You could blackmail me and take all the rights you crave, couldn't you? You said it yourself just now that you could break into the museum, could pillage—"

"Were I an ordinary pirate," Crocodile interjected. He stopped in front of Cobra and leaned against the table. "But as I already stated, I _am_ no ordinary pirate. I'm a royal Shichibukai, and I don't _take_ rights, I have them _handed_ to me." He took the cigar from his mouth and raised it up, pursing his lips and blowing a thin trail of smoke upwards to the ceiling. "And that's what I crave from you, Cobra. I could blackmail and have you provide me a list of wonderful privileges, or," he said, and brought his stare back down on the silent king, "I could continue taking your side and keep your family's name from getting soiled, and have you tell me that you're going to let my associate gain access to restricted parts of the city. Not because I forced you, but because you want to."

The answer was blunt, and less satisfying than Cobra was willing to admit. Crocodile's intentions were, once again, less than pure, but this time Cobra felt a little disappointed to hear it.

"You look upset," Crocodile stated. He watched the way the king pulled at the inside of his lip. Was he biting it? What was he so afraid to admit to him? Crocodile could think of one thing in particular. Cobra brought up last night, which meant he was far weaker than he had previously assumed.

Cobra was still a mess, and Crocodile wanted to indulge further. But now there was no excuse for him to hide behind. He was no longer under the influence of the weather. This curiosity, this strange desire to dare and risk it all, was all him.

It felt strange to admit this. But now he was leaning over Cobra, watching the man's feelings reflect in his wavering eyes, and whatever it had been last night that made him act on this weird desire to see this man crumble beneath him welled up again like the tide on the shore while the sunshine dried last night's rain on the desert outside.

"Last night has affected you more than what you let on," he said just a bit too loud. Cobra moved in his chair, looking uncomfortable and unwilling to admit such a thing to him. But he didn't look away, and he was still in his chair, and Crocodile saw their current positions as an invitation to further pry. "Not that there is anything wrong with giving into desires, especially when the king is involved. And after so many hours of dealing with those pesky guests," he said as he leaned closer to Cobra, "it must have been nice to not have to think and just...let it all out. Let someone else take control for a little while."

"You're being inappropriate again," Cobra muttered. He wasn't looking at him now. It was hard to resist the urge to grab his chin and make him.

"I suppose," Crocodile said with a smirk. "The question is, will I get away with it again?"

Cobra said nothing and stared adamantly to the side. Crocodile let him, but didn't back off. He wanted Cobra to feel his presence. Crocodile could feel himself get excited. He wanted to know just how low he could force Cobra, how much he could push him around. He knew Cobra was playing pretend.

Maybe last night hadn't been a mistake after all.

"It's been a stressful few weeks," Cobra finally said. Crocodile leaned back, rewarding the king for finally giving an answer. Cobra picked up on the subtle gesture, and looked at him again. "The rains are supposed to bring joy and peace to the country, and the people in Alubarna are certainly enjoy themselves, but on a national scale..." He sighed, his hands that were gripping his robes relaxed just a little as he folded them on his lap again. "You understand these sorts of things, right, that an average is just that: everything that's been happening pushed together. It's been a good year for us, yes, _on average_. That means a lot of people are doing a lot better than the numbers let on… and a lot of people have it much worse. We can afford to fill the palace with foods and music and dances and have people enjoy them, and still… There's so many families who have to work hard to even afford a single meal, and I feel guilty about it."

Crocodile stared at Cobra, his expression blank. The man was simply unbelievable. But Crocodile supposed he could consider Cobra's will to please everyone a strong trait: it was certainly benefiting _him_. After yesterday, the robes he wore today were of a simple cotton, rough and stiff. Crocodile could see weave flaws. It wasn't unlikely Cobra had bought the fabric on the market, just so that a simple worker sold a little of his hard work.

It was hilarious.

"You need to consider this progress," he answered finally. "You can't make everyone happy in a day. But things are picking up, and I'm here offering my service should you need it."

Cobra looked at him again with a sceptical expression. "I'm not sure what kind of service you might have in mind," he said, and Crocodile found himself surprised enough by his bluntness to chuckle.

"I'm sure we'll be able to reach future agreements," he said, purposefully vague just to see what Cobra would do. He brought up last night already, but Crocodile wanted an invitation to speak open about it.

The king frowned and looked away again. "I'm not sure why you're offering this," he said.

"Because you let it happen," Crocodile replied, holding in a smirk when he saw the king turn away to hide his blush. "Despite having ample time to walk away, call me names, call for the guards, have me arrested, anything at all, and you did nothing of these things. I'm no fool, Cobra." Crocodile watched Cobra frown and fight some inner conflict, and pushed further. "I don't care for your reasons. I've been asking a lot of favors from you, and I consider myself a businessman, so I'm prepared to make ends meet." He lowered his head closer to Cobra's and was glad that Cobra didn't move, and continued to look him in the eyes, in his nervous, near frightened stare. "And I can imagine how taxing ruling a country must be," he hushed.

Crocodile watched Cobra's eyelids flutter and his face, hidden underneath his shadow, turn pale. "What?" he stuttered to ask. He brought his hand up, about to cover his face, but then stopped, only to drop it and shake his head. "Are you insinuating that _you_ …and I…"

Again Cobra came to the conclusion of sex without Crocodile actively bringing it up. He didn't even need to nod or give a stare, it was clear what was on the king's mind. And with that, he straightened up; backing away from the king, watching his posture change and relax a little, and Cobra stare at him with suspicion and disbelief.

There was a pause as Crocodile walked back around the table to put the burned out cigar into the ashtray. Back facing Cobra, he snickered as he listened to the king move in his seat. He wondered if Cobra was counting the seconds in his head, waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass before answering. It hardly mattered, Crocodile already knew what answer he would receive.

Finally, he heard Cobra mutter something, and turned around, changing his expression to one of confusion. "Pardon?" he asked.

Cobra removed the hand covering his mouth before repeating himself. "I'll… think about your offer."

"Think about my request as well," Crocodile said, pretending not to notice how embarrassed Cobra looked. The apparent guilt on his face suggested he was doing more than just thinking about his offer. Crocodile had the man where he wanted him, sinking further into a pit of shame and submission. There was no need to go overboard, yet. "Can I send someone to look into the storage of the museum? The archives? On short notice, if need be?" He grinned sharply. "I realize this is asking a lot."

"No, it's… no problem." Cobra frowned, surprised by himself once again. "Send word beforehand and I'll see to it that whomever you will send will be granted access to everything they desire."

"Wonderful," Crocodile said, his grin honest for once. Robin was right: he _had_ the king in the palm of his hand. This had been much easier than he had anticipated. A little manipulation and Cobra danced to his every tune. "It's such a pleasure to do business with you, Your Majesty. I'll be taking my leave… Please, don't get up, I know my way out."

He held out his hand, and Cobra shook it, too baffled to react otherwise. Crocodile's hand easily covered his own. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Crocodile's grip, though firm, was oddly comforting. He jumped a little when Crocodile pulled his hand away, the feel of the rings rubbing against his palm. Crocodile must have not realized it, because he responded with a light chuckle, patting him hard on the shoulder before walking past him and over to the door. Cobra remained sitting where he was, still too much in shock to get up.

He was left alone, overwhelmed again by Crocodile's rude, forward behavior just like last night, and felt similar, too. How was it that this man could just waltz in, demand outrageous things, be blunt and lewd and get away with it?

Staring at Crocodile's empty cup, Cobra shook his head at himself. No, but all things considered, Crocodile had been nonchalant and polite, hadn't he? Apparently blackmail never crossed his mind. He mentioned wanting to be on Cobra's good side, and apparently meant it, too. Nevertheless it put Cobra under a lot of pressure and stress, and he felt tired and worn out now that the Shichibukai was gone, and for a split second he wondered if it would be nice to _let it all out_ , as Crocodile had put it.

The second he realized his own thoughts he winced, and left his seat to quickly find something to do to occupy his mind. But as he walked through the door he noticed his own hand playing with his hair, getting tangled and pulling nervously, each tug bringing him back to last night, followed by Crocodile's haunting offer. He looked down the long hallway, hoping to spot someone: his daughter, Igaram, _anyone_ , but was left alone with nothing to stop his mind from going back, going further and staining him with the same dirty feeling as before. Only this time…

Cobra looked down the hallways again, feeling his face grow warmer as he tried to cope with the horrific thought of him not minding it so much.

* * *

As it turned out the museum was a flop. After not seeing Robin for almost two weeks as she stayed behind in Alubarna to go through the museum's storage and files, and Crocodile setting the final stage of everything regarding the dance powder into motion, she finally reported back to him. "Nothing, I'm coming back to Rain Dinners," was all she said before hanging up, and his mood was sour for the rest of the day. What a waste of time.

Ironically it was a call from the royal palace lifted his spirits again. It was Cobra asking if things had turned out to be in his favor. Apparently he heard that Crocodile's subordinate would return to Rain Dinners to report back to him. After the disappointment, Crocodile didn't feel like acting, but played along nevertheless. Considering how their last conversation had ended, this call was a pretty big deal. So he thanked Cobra for his patience and again for his cooperation.

"You'll hate me for this," he said jokingly while filing through some billions reports, taking great pleasure in the irony of it all. "But depending on what I gather from the info my subordinate will come home with, I might want to learn more."

"Well, I allowed you to do as you please, didn't I?" Cobra said on the line with a slight chuckle. "So please, go ahead. Just let me know and I'll see to it that it'll be done."

"Thank you," Crocodile said. "As always, you're a preferable business partner." He thought he sounded suspiciously polite, and worried for a moment that Cobra might catch on that it was an act. But he saw the den den mushi smile up at him, looking pleased to hear something that wasn't the usual rudeness he usually confronted the king with.

With that in mind, Crocodile decided to make a move. "How are things fairing in the palace?" he asked.

He watched the smile dwindle down. "Things have been a tad worrying," Cobra admitted. "Even with taxes lowering, several cities and towns are struggling to meet demands." There was a pause, and Crocodile watched the snail shake its head. "And there are these rumors of some criminal organization on the move…"

Crocodile rolled his cigar between his lips, distracting himself from smiling. "A criminal organization, in Alabasta? With _me_ here? What a ridiculous idea," he said. "Nevertheless, I suggest you let those unfounded rumors out of your mind. It would be a shame if you stressed over some made up group."

"I suppose," he heard Cobra reply. He didn't sound very convinced though, and Crocodile felt almost offended by Cobra's lack of trust in him.

He exhaled a plume of smoke with a huff around the cigar between his teeth. "Have I ever proven you wrong?" he asked.

"No," Cobra said. "No, you're right. Rumors aren't exactly the kind of thing I should worry about."

"Exactly." It was almost becoming a habit to make Cobra agree with him.

"So," Cobra added after a pause. "When… do you plan on visiting Alubarna again?"

If Crocodile had been tired and bored before, this made more awake than anything. "Business might send me over," he said carefully. "Why?"

How quickly Cobra responded told him all he needed to know. "Oh, nothing," Cobra said dismissively. Crocodile watched the snail on his desk squirm and exhaled a long trail of smoke to the ceiling. He decided he would be blunt.

"Do you need me over?" he asked.

Cobra laughed nervously. "No, well, I—"

"Do you _want_ me over?" he persisted, flicking some ash from the end of his cigar as he grinned at the frantic looking den den mushi. Cobra was aware how expressive these snails were, wasn't he?

"I was merely curious to know what your future plans were," Cobra spouted. It was a pathetic, vague excuse. "I'm very aware that you're a busy man, and I personally would hate to—"

Crocodile rolled his eyes. "Cobra," he interrupted. "Say it."

Cobra didn't reply but Crocodile could hear something across the line. Was it pacing? Was Cobra rubbing his free hand across his leg, trying to think up a reason to end this conversation? "Say it, and I can be there in a few hours," he persuaded.

If he really wanted to, he could be there in less than two, but he refrained from using exact numbers. He wanted to give Cobra the impression there was time to change his mind. Not that he would have to. Cobra didn't really need to call him in order to ask about Robin's excursions. Odds were she was nothing more than an excuse, and bad one at that.

"Cobra," Crocodile practically teased. "Don't make me beg for an honest answer."

He waited. There were some sounds that Crocodile wasn't sure he identified. He didn't have the patience to deal with Cobra's indecisiveness. "Fine," he said finally. "I thought it was something important, but it seems you don't need me t—"

"Wait!" Cobra made a pathetic noise. "It would be great if you came over," he muttered. "There's… something I'd like to discuss with you in person."

"Oh, is that so? Worked out so favorable for you last time, didn't it? Is this going to be your argot?" Crocodile chuckled as he put his files away to be dealt with later. "You're a bad liar, Cobra."

"Please don't make this harder than it already is," Cobra said weakly.

Crocodile stared at the sad expression on the snail's face and smiled. "My apologies," he replied, kneeling closer to the snail, watching it look nervously to the side. "I'll be there as quickly as I can, to discuss business with you."

"Soon?"

Crocodile lifted himself back up, headed to the closet to grab his coat, and to hide the growing smirk from hearing that slip of the tongue. "Calm down, Cobra," he said aloud. He heard the snail practically jump in its place. "I may be a devil fruit user, but I'm still just a man. Be patient, distract yourself with the usual business, and I'll be over before you know it."

He heard a laugh from the snail. "Ah, yes," Cobra said. "I...I look forward to it. Uhm, should I prepare anything? Food, drink?"

Lord, Cobra was terrible at this. He would attempt to wine and dine him before getting fucked, wouldn't he? "That won't necessary," Crocodile answered just as he threw his coat over his shoulders.

A thought occurred to him, and just because he was a cruel man he voiced it out loud.

"Lube," he added. "Unless you think last time was fine."

It was delightful to watch the snail's reaction, the soft gasp he heard. But all things considered, Cobra handled it well. Crocodile had half expected him to start crying. "N-no," the king muttered. "I'll see to it. Thanks for the reminder."

Crocodile couldn't help but chuckle. "You're welcome," he said. "We don't want you to be in pain, do we?"

He watched the den den mushi shake its head and decided to show just a shred of mercy by putting Cobra out of his misery. "See you soon," he said, and hung up without another reply.

Would Cobra change his mind? Crocodile doubted it, but when it was time for him to leave he did notice the change in his stride as he made his way downstairs. He was in a hurry, but for what?

He met Robin halfway through the casino. "Where are you going?" she asked as he pushed past her, dreading the conversation.

"Out," he said curtly. "Something's come up."

"Rainmaker?" she inquired softly, trailing after him.

"No," he answered. "It doesn't concern you. There's some paperwork on my desk for you to pick up. You're in charge while I'm away. I'll be back tonight."

"Okay, boss," she said just before she stopped following him.

As Crocodile paced through the casino, guiding through any obstacles that were in his way, and had the doors opened for him to get outside, a strange thought arrived.

How bad did _he_ want to see Cobra?

Crocodile couldn't recall the last time he played the role of the pursuer. Yes, there were those times where he purposely lost himself to Doflamingo's whims, resulting in a few scenarios where he chased after the man, but even those instances took place well within the past.

The cool desert wind blew against his face. Crocodile was outside of the casino, ready to change into sand and be carried off to pay the king what would be their second nightly visit. Whatever worry or guilt he felt before was gone, replaced with excitement that was near impossible to contain. He eagerly let his body fade and crumble, shifting into a heavy fog of sand granules, and lifted himself up into the air.

Crocodile pushed himself to Alubarna, fighting against the weather in order to reach his destination. What was it that drove him to put so much effort into reaching Cobra? It really wasn't worth the effort. The farther he traveled, the more numb he felt. But despite the lack of a physical attraction, there was an almost animalistic drive to reach the king, to have him be overly polite as he guided him around the castle, offered up food and other comforts in an attempt to make this appear more than a simple fuck.

But that was all it was. Despite Cobra's best efforts to entertain him and prolong the inevitable, Crocodile was quick to drag the king into the bedroom and have his way with him. Rules were established behind locked doors. He made sure to not allow Cobra the opportunity to make anything more of it. Crocodile ordered him to not ask too many questions, to relax, to undress, to stop lingering with the touches.

It was annoying to have to adjust around a man like Cobra, but his submissive behavior and willingness to comply with his every demand made the night worth it. Seeing Cobra crawl on the bed, his shame ridden face hidden behind his hair, already messily draped around his shoulders, made the venture to the castle satisfying. The noises he made as he sprawled out underneath him, the pathetic way he begged between moans and cries, and the complete lack of regard for how awful he sounded when he asked for more, made the entire trip.

The night was worth it. Cobra must've thought the same, because a few days later Crocodile received word from Robin that the king left a message asking for him again. Crocodile chose to wait a few days before returning the call, but not before releasing his dance powder across the country. Hearing the king fight to not sound desperate and horny for his attention was a delight, and after pretending to think about his offer, and coming up with an excuse over a conflicting schedule, Crocodile decided to pay Cobra a visit for a third time.

And a fourth.

And then, and fifth...

* * *

Crocodile dreamt of Dressrosa. All seemed so real; the fluttering of the curtains in the light midnight breeze, the overwhelming perfume of the flower fields below the balcony, Doflamingo's almost unbearable body heat next to him. The way he would sigh in his light sleep, and bury his nose in his hair, mouth pressed against his neck. Legs and arms naked and tangled. An actual night worth of rest. Birds chirping in the morning hours when Doflamingo woke and decided it was time Crocodile do the same. Needy touches, sleepy kisses.

It happened so often, there was just no reason to believe it wasn't real.

When Crocodile woke, for a moment he didn't know where he was. He raised his arm in defense against the uneasy feeling. This wasn't Dressrosa. This wasn't Doflamingo's bed. There was the same breeze, and the curtains too. They were of a different color though, and the perfume of flowers was accompanied by the smell of the desert.

Crocodile lifted himself upright into a sitting position. It was still dark. He couldn't have slept longer than two or three hours at most. His body was sending him all sorts of mixed signals. He felt deeply relaxed physically, comfortably heavy and tired enough to go back to sleep.

But his mind was wary. The second he realized he wasn't in Dressrosa, he knew the warm body in the sheets next to him wasn't Doflamingo.

Crocodile stared at the black, long curls that pooled over the pillow and tried to understand how he had ended up here.

Damn. After realizing that Cobra would become a regular thing, he had told himself to never let this—the bed, the bedroom, sleeping next to each other—happen, and now here he was. After the initial surprise, there was a wave of regret. Then came bitter shame, followed by hot embarrassment, all in just under the couple of seconds that he needed to process the scene with his clouded mind.

Fucking Cobra was one thing. But this? He settled for cold determination to not let it happen again.

He didn't get up right away, thinking the shuffling of the sheets might wake Cobra. It was unlikely though, if his memory was right. There were images of Cobra beneath him, on all fours like some dog, struggling to keep his balance under Crocodile's weight. He remembered clinging hands, Cobra's on the sheets, the pillows, the bed frame, whatever he could reach, and his own tugging long hair, admiring with such clarity the glistening of his ring with the garnet gemstone next to the soft locks. What was it with Cobra's hair that he couldn't get enough of pulling it, making him throw back his head to ease the pain, and whisper cruel things to his ear? And Cobra tolerated it. Did he want it? Giving in once was easily dismissable as a mistake, an experiment. Crocodile knew these thoughts well enough from his younger days. But doing this twice, three times, five… at some point there was no way to excuse these actions anymore. He couldn't imagine Cobra being into him. If he had gotten a taste for dick, well, he certainly wasn't dependant on Crocodile. Alubarna had a vast red light district and enough men in it, too.

No, there was only one real explanation. Cobra didn't just tolerate it, _he liked it_.

Carefully Crocodile changed his form and slipped out of bed with nothing but a gentle breeze guiding him.

His clothes were all over the floor, shed like skin. He quickly put on pants and threw the shirt around his shoulders. He couldn't find the coat, nor the ascot. He was missing the shoes. He frowned, but didn't dare to look, and after dreading someone might see him on bare feet, decided that it was still better than Cobra waking when he started searching. It was better to have Cobra wake to a few of his clothes sprawled on the floor than himself, naked beside him.

Knowing Cobra, he would only collect his clothes, have them washed and set aside until Crocodile had them picked up without a comment.

Only half dressed, hair disheveled and set to kill everyone who dared to ask questions, he left the royal bedroom.

The halls were empty. He tried to remember the architecture of the palace. He only needed a window to get away. His naked feet made no noise on the marble floor as he quickly walked down the hallway. An eery silence lay on the palace, making his ears hypersensitive as he tried to catch any sound that might indicate he was about to approach someone who would see him like this. For the first time in a very long while, he actually felt like he did something forbidden.

He stopped before rounding a corner, carefully listening. But nothing. He took a step, and with the next one almost ran over the princess. She fell back with a surprised noise, and he looked down to her more startled than he was willing to admit.

Eyeing her, he saw she was in a nightgown, with a stuffed animal under her arm. She stared up to him with big brown eyes full of fear and dismay. She clearly trusted him less than her father did. Clever girl.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, little princess?" he asked, willing his voice to be calm and cruel despite of how shaken he felt. Of all people he could've run into it just had to be her. Not just any fool who he could intimidate, or a guard who'd keep his mouth shut. No, it just _had_ to be the princess.

She met his eyes with defiance. "What about you?"

"I'm an adult, I can be awake whenever I want." Her childish behavior irritated him. He had never been good with children. She proved to be no exception. He wanted to get out and away. The princess was only making matters worse. He still had Cobra's bedroom behind him.

She seemed to realize the same thing, peering past his knees at the dark hallway. "What are you doing here?" she asked slowly. Only now did she notice his missing clothes. He grit his teeth. How much would a twelve year old girl know about these things, anyway?

Another wave of anger nearly made him kick her away. He covered his face with his hand and groaned a little, barely finding the patience to regain his composure. "What are _you_ doing here? A child like you shouldn't wander the halls at night."

She hugged her tiny arms around her stuffed animal. "I had a bad dream," she said, sounding accusatory, like it was _his_ fault. "And papa said if I can't sleep, I can go to him."

He stared at her and almost laughed. What a bizarre chance. Had he slept just a few moments longer, had she come just a few minutes earlier… So he was actually lucky under the circumstances? "Go on then," he said with a cruel smirk. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

He walked past her, and felt her eyes rest on his back. By the end of the hallway, there was an open window. He knew couldn't leave with her watching him like this.

He did the only thing he could think of. Already halfway on the window sill he turned back to her, finding some pleasure in how she jolted when he stared at her. Forcing a grin to his face, he brought his index finger up, pursing the lips against it. "Princess Vivi," he said in a low voice, "this will be our little secret. You're a smart kid... I'm sure you don't want your papa to get into trouble. So you'll behave. Understood?"

He watched her nod curtly, and only then shifted his form and let the wind carry him away from the palace.

By the time he got back to Rain Dinners it was almost dawn. He threw his clothes off and didn't even think about going back to bed, heading straight to the bathroom to rinse the night off of him. He took his time, too, reflecting on what happened and wondering if threatening the princess might have been a smart move. But there was nothing he could do about it now, so he pushed the thoughts aside. With his long term goals, he had other things to worry about.

He closed the tab and wrapped a towel around his waist, not bothering with drying himself. The second he opened the door to his bedroom, he regretted that decision. The smell of sweet, heavy cologne almost hit him in the face. His stomach turned.

"You said you'd _call_ ," he said glumly. The room was dark, and he couldn't see Doflamingo, but the chuckle gave him away.

"Hello to you too," Doflamingo cooed. His voice was coming from the bed. "You should be nicer, it was a long journey and I'm exhausted."

"You _said_ you'd _call_ ," Crocodile said again, like it would change anything. He knew hesitating too long would make Doflamingo suspicious, so he gripped his hand around the fabric of his towel, and walked over to the bed without switching the lights on. The second he felt the mattress against his shins he heard the sheets shift, and eager hands grabbed him and pulled him down. He was smothered with a greedy embrace.

"I know," Doflamingo muttered against his lips. "Sorry. I couldn't wait."

Crocodile sighed and endured the kiss, but pushed Doflamingo away the second he felt it was enough for a more or less decent hello. "Honestly," he growled. "I told you I was busy. You can't just waltz in here." Doflamingo's body was so hot, and he smelled so good, and his lips tasted good, and his hands felt good, and his naked skin against his own felt good, and it all made Crocodile's chest ache.

"I missed you." His lips wandered down to his throat. Crocodile felt his hair tickle his nose and huffed. The fragrance of his hair was so familiar, so intimate. Suddenly the realization of just how long they hadn't seen each other really hit him. He grabbed Doflamingo's neck and pushed his fingers through the short hair on his neck, Doflamingo's chuckle against his skin music to his ears.

Not wanting to wait until Doflamingo decided to come up again for a kiss he dragged him up to press his mouth against his, eyes closing and breathing in Doflamingo's muffled laughter like air. He hated to admit that he had missed Doflamingo. It was so easy to ignore when they were apart. He was good with just a couple of calls every other week or so. It wasn't as easy when Doflamingo was pushing him down to the pillow, demanding every bit of attention. Had it really been a year and a half since they were last together?

"How the hell did you even get in here?" he muttered, hand still buried in Doflamingo's hair, grabbing what little there was for him to grab, the hook very carefully placed around his right arm.

"Cute how you think a closed window is going to keep me out," Doflamingo commented. He leaned back, and Crocodile's eyes adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the outlines of his features. He moved his hand to Doflamingo's face, feeling the lips spread in a grin under his fingertips. "But I suppose it's a good thing I can still surprise you after all this time."

Crocodile snorted and tugged Doflamingo's earring. "Turning up unannounced like this certainly surprised me," he growled. "You're unbelievable. What if I had been away?"

Doflamingo chuckled, tilting his head to the side to follow Crocodile's tugging, but he let go with another growl, fingers spreading back through his hair. "You got lazy, and comfortable," Doflamingo said, arching his neck back to coincide with Crocodile's petting. "You built a casino with a giant bananadile on top in the middle of a fucking desert. Where would someone like you even go, when you're settled down like this?"

There was nothing he could say without lying, and he didn't want to lie Doflamingo, so Crocodile chose not to comment. Doflamingo took his silence as agreement, and moved his knee to push open Crocodile's legs. The towel fell open and Crocodile could feel cool air hit his bare thigh. Doflamingo hummed a tune of excitement, hands roaming everywhere without hesitation and shame, like Crocodile was his property. Crocodile couldn't help but tense up.

In the dark of the room, their eyes met as Doflamingo pushed him down. Crocodile could see him purse his lips, and bit his own. He still had his hand in Doflamingo's hair, tugging away. A few seconds passed and Crocodile's heartbeat quickened. His breathing grew harder. A few seconds more went by, and after no more changes occurred Doflamingo stopped, and Crocodile caught his figure, hand wiping his face. "I know it's been a while," he muttered. "No reason to get nervous."

Crocodile nudged him with his knee and huffed. "Idiot," he hissed, and was glad he decided against switching on the light. "That's not it."

"Hmm." Doflamingo's expression turned thoughtful, and then Crocodile could see the white of his teeth shine again in a wide grin. "You wanna top? You can totally top if you want."

Crocodile rolled his eyes. "No," he sighed. "I don't want to."

"You don't _want_ to?" Doflamingo sat back a little. Again, Crocodile was thankful for the darkness. Although they could hardly see each other he had to turn away. "Talk about surprising each other, huh," he heard Doflamingo comment. There was an awkward pause. "Did I mess —"

"Oh my god, Doflamingo, relax," Crocodile groaned, pushing his hand over his face. As happy as he might be to see Doflamingo again, this was exhausting, and he wanted to relax. After the long day, and Cobra, and not getting any sleep, and now dealing with Doflamingo, sex really was the last thing he had in mind. Sex was the last thing he could _do_. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Hey, _I'm_ not the special snowflake here," Doflamingo said, dipping his head down to the bend of Crocodile's neck again to place a few lingering kisses, an apology. "I just thought, with your condition…"

"It's not a _condition_ , and if you keep this up I'm throwing you out." Crocodile rolled his eyes, and was actually glad Doflamingo had given him a reason why, despite being happy to see him, not much was happening on his side. "Look," he muttered, keeping Doflamingo close with his hand resting on his head. "It's late. Why don't we just sleep and put everything else on hold until tomorrow?"

"Aw, honestly?" Doflamingo looked up, clearly disappointed and a little annoyed by the pressure Crocodile provided to his head so that he wouldn't look at him. "It's been a long journey," Doflamingo said, expressing an exaggerated frown. "A _very_ long journey. The thought of finally getting to fuck you again kept me motivated to keep going."

"You're the spitting image of a hopeless romantic, Doflamingo," Crocodile sighed.

Doflamingo chuckled. "I can't help myself." He leaned in for a surprisingly tender kiss to Crocodile's lips that he gladly answered. "You really are getting old, huh?" he teased.

Crocodile huffed. If that was what Doflamingo wanted to believe, he would let him. "Forty sucks," he offered, and Doflamingo laughed, clearly appeased for now. It wasn't hard to guess that this wasn't how he imagined things to turn out, but Crocodile was relieved that he didn't press things any further. He knew if he really wanted, Doflamingo could have his way with him all he liked.

What a weird thought to have, he realized, staring out into the darkness as Doflamingo busied himself with a few more kisses and bites to his throat and neck before falling down to the pillow next to him and pulling him close. Crocodile shifted a little to get a look at his face, seeing his eyes shine bright even in the darkness.

A very old, well-known feeling started to swell up, washing from his chest up into his fingertips where he idly rubbed over Doflamingo's hot skin. Everything about this body was so familiar. The way golden hair spiraled from a cowlick on the back of his head where he liked to grab, down to his neck, thinning away to the side, tight muscle from his shoulders all the way down to his shoulders, the small of his back, and his ass. How many times had Crocodile reached out and grabbed and clawed his fingernails into Doflamingo's skin in his life? Countless times. The arms that would hold him, long and slender and lithe. Chest, abs, another trail of golden hair down below.

It wasn't raining outside. He wished it was, because that would at least be a somewhat good excuse for all these feelings.

"What's on your mind?" Doflamingo muttered next to him. "You're so distracted. No wonder you can't get it up."

Crocodile growled. The remark hurt more than he was willing to admit. And there was no way he could correct Doflamingo either. "It was a long day," he said. "Overtime and all." Fucking Cobra certainly wasn't scheduled for business hours. "Now go to sleep, and maybe I'll let you wake me up in the morning."

Doflamingo chuckled softly. "Morning round, with you? You're too gracious. It's a deal."

"Now will you shut up and let me sleep?" asked Crocodile, opening his arms when Doflamingo nuzzled against him.

"Sure, sleep all you like, recover from your hard day in the office. I want you relaxed and happy tomorrow," Doflamingo hummed. Crocodile didn't feel tired anymore as he stared into the darkness, and over to the window, only now realizing that it was open. As he felt Doflamingo relax and fall asleep in his arms he stared at a nearby seat, the outlines of Doflamingo's coat in front of it, shed and thrown away carelessly. Crocodile could practically see how Doflamingo had opened the window, found Crocodile in the bathroom, undressed quickly and hopped into his bed, ready to surprise him.

Fuck. Crocodile had done and said so many of the things Doflamingo said to him just today, last week, the weeks before, but to Cobra. Oh, of course their relationships weren't close to being the same. Crocodile desired nothing from Cobra but bringing him down to his knees, making him comply with his every will as he played with him for as long as he wanted.

Doflamingo was different. They had been around each other for so many years of their lives. Crocodile would never bother to call it a relationship. Doflamingo probably would, but then he'd chuckle and shrug, and take it all back, insisting he was okay with whatever Crocodile wanted.

But it was alright, wasn't it? Doflamingo would never know. Even if Cobra should decide to call him again so soon after today, Crocodile could easily put him on hold. Cobra was dependant on him now, and wouldn't act up. He implied that he was thankful for Crocodile providing what he called "private interventions" while there were political hardships to deal with, most of them Crocodile's fault.

Not that Cobra knew.

Crocodile gently pushed his fingers through short, spiky blond hair. He huffed a little, and pressed his nose against the hair that smelled so familiar of fruit and sunshine, and thought that _nobody_ would ever know.


	6. Chapter 6

For the first time in several years, Doflamingo awoke to the warm and welcoming surprise of Crocodile all over him, eyeing him as he enthusiastically sucked him off, making noises he wouldn’t dare be caught making even in the best of moods. If he had been worried about the failed blowjob last night, he certainly forgot about it as he felt vibrations from Crocodile humming as he bobbed his head up and down, witnessing long strands of hair falling across his forehead, adding to the messiness of his already hot and reddened face. Doflamingo wanted to comment on the slight squint in Crocodile’s eyes as he lowered his head down, but the muffled moans and slip of a tongue against his cock forbade him from saying anything that wasn’t obscene or inarticulate. There was barely any time for Doflamingo to let Crocodile wrap his arms around his legs and hold him in place before the mouth and relaxed throat became too much. Staring up at the ceiling did nothing to stop his muscles from tensing and hips from attempting to jerk forward. The sun was still rising, and Doflamingo happily tossed his senses into the wind, grabbing Crocodile’s hair by the roots and enjoying the way he winced as he forced Crocodile to take the entirety of his cock, grinning widely as part of his face was pressed into his pubic hair.

A few thrusts into Crocodile’s throat, and Doflamingo breathed out a deep sigh, body tense, but relieved as a shot of ecstasy spread throughout his body. He listened to Crocodile gag for a moment, and his grin turned into a nasty smirk as he continued to hold him down, fingers curling into tangled hair while enjoying the feel of Crocodile’s throat muscles around his sensitive penis.

Doflamingo relinquished Crocodile’s hair, his mouth watering when he saw him rise, looking red and used up, the corner of his lips stained with excess saliva and semen.

“I take it this your way of teaching me how to properly suck dick?” he asked, struggling to not sound too tired after finishing. Despite the orgasm Doflamingo was more than ready to return the favor. “Cause if this how you get a point across, then how about a few lessons in fucking?”

He watched Crocodile wipe his face, grinning wider when he caught his tongue at the corner of his mouth. But Crocodile turned, moving to the edge of the bed, and it wasn’t until he saw him get up and head for the closet did he realize that something was up.

“Not now,” he heard Crocodile answer as he slid open the doors to reveal his collection of attire. “Later, after breakfast.”

Doflamingo was ready to be disappointed, but Crocodile’s additional remark had him crawling over to the end of the bed, curious to learn more. “Later?” he inquired, his brow rising up just as Crocodile turned to face him, today’s outfit resting on his arm.

“After breakfast,” Crocodile repeated. He still had a slight flush to his look, and there was something in his stare that Doflamingo couldn’t quite put a finger on. “Hurry and get dressed.”

“Dressed?” It was then Doflamingo noticed the quality of clothes in Crocodile’s arms. These were not the sorts of fabrics one would lay out overnight, or even for a few hours while eating, screwing or bathing. 

As though he had taken a bite of the same Devil’s fruit as Violet, Crocodile replied right on cue. “There’s a restaurant nearby that I think would be to your liking,” he muttered while casually making his way to the restroom. “And while I don’t need to make any reservations to guarantee us a table, I’d prefer we get there in a timely manner, before it gets too crowded for my liking.”

Crocodile was taking him out? Well, the day was starting off with quite a few surprises. Doflamingo wasn’t going to let this odd shift in Crocodile’s normally disinterested behavior get to him, but he made a mental note for later, when they’d finally be alone again, stomachs full and Crocodile more than likely back to his usual self.

He dressed and followed Crocodile down and out of the casino, stopping once to have a few words with that Nico Robin. Despite telling himself he wouldn’t let Crocodile’s mood get to him, when he overheard Crocodile tell her to not bother him for the day and to keep notes on any calls he might receive on hold, Doflamingo had a hard time stopping certain feelings from taking hold. Once Crocodile was done with her, Doflamingo grabbed him, laughing it up and accusing Crocodile of going soft at his old age, that or senile. But underneath his sarcasm Doflamingo knew how long his gaze lingered on Crocodile’s dry smile, how difficult it was for his hands to let go of him and pull away to allow Crocodile to lead him to their destination.

Breakfast was…fantastic. Upon their arrival Crocodile had their table waited on, and it seemed like whatever demand he made was met. Doflamingo was prepared to make a few snide remarks at the way he ordered the staff around, but was given no real opportunity. No, that wasn’t true: he had _plenty_ of opportunity to poke fun at Crocodile, but each one was cut short when Crocodile asked about Dressrosa, his business in the black market and at the auction house, even his family. Each question resulted in him answering, and Crocodile listening, eyes on him, paying attention to whatever Doflamingo supplied him with. The drinks, fruits and the rest of the meals came and went, and Doflamingo continued to talk and Crocodile went on and listened, replying every so once in a while as Doflamingo paused to take a bite of crepe or bacon, only to go back to listening closely as Doflamingo laughed and spoke, his gestures wide and excited.

The sun rose higher, the light stretched across their table and for a moment Doflamingo wondered if the smile on Crocodile’s face was a result of having a few too many mimosas, but then Crocodile laughed and before he knew it they were laughing together. They probably did have more alcohol than originally intended, but the overindulgence was nothing compared to seeing Crocodile rest his elbows on the table, lean forward and admit that he _might_ have missed Doflamingo on occasion. By this point their table was cluttered with all sorts of unfinished plates, and the restaurant was packed with curious customers and staff, even passer-bys who took notice of the spectacle, all badly concealing their stares over at their presence. And Crocodile let it happen. Tipsy as he was, Doflamingo was visibly impressed, and very flattered that Crocodile _chose_ to ignore it all and keep his undivided attention on him, his smirk never faltering, eyes hardly rolling.

The sun rose up, the city filled, and the day almost half over, the two decided to refrain from immediately returning to Rain Dinners. It was a difficult decision for Doflamingo. He desperately wanted to see that wonderful smile turn into something downright cruel and immoral as soon as possible. He scolded himself, and after blaming some of it on the alcohol, transferred some of his physical desire on Crocodile in the form of possessive, but still affectionate touching, demanding that he show him around all the fancy expensive stores so he could waste his money.

“You promised, remember?” he said, playing with Crocodile’s hand in his, rubbing his index finger between the knuckles, turning the rings around, taking his time in admiring the new set of jewelry. Some rings were new, some very old; every time Doflamingo saw him he wore a new set. He stared at the ring he wore on his pinky, thinking the golden crocodile was humble compared to that _thing_ on top of Rain Dinners. He lifted his gaze to grin at Crocodile again.

“True,” Crocodile said. After finishing their breakfast, he had just lit the first cigar of the day, and while Doflamingo had stopped smoking years ago, the heavy, earthy scent made him nostalgic, remembering how they had shared cigarettes and lighter in the past. “Come on then,” Crocodile allured, bringing Doflamingo back to the present, and he rejoiced to feel Crocodile gently tugging his hand to get him moving.

What was intended to last a few hours turned into several as Crocodile guided him around the massive shopping district. Doflamingo hadn’t expected some city in the middle of the desert to harbor so many stores. He supposed there would be a few interesting things worth noting, but an entire street dedicated to the latest fashion was another thing entirely. Crocodile had just about every store owner sucking up to him, offering up at least one of their employees to carry bags of whatever Doflamingo decided to spend some of his beli on. Doflamingo watched them in amusement, laughing it up as they fought to keep their smiles on, waiting for Crocodile to give them permission to deliver several bags of souvenirs to Rain Dinners, and nearly dropping on the floor, tripping over themselves when he finally relinquished them of their duties.

With the sun starting to set, Crocodile insisted Doflamingo finish his shopping on another day. Nightly entertainment was starting to be offered, and Crocodile gave him the names of different buildings they could attend, the types of amusement being held, performed with music, animals, fruit users, or a combination of all three. All the while, people continued to stare, a few in fear, most of them in awe at the sight of two Shichibukai enjoying their evening together.

As Doflamingo attempted to make a decision, he recalled the day’s events, and after some thought he opted they return to the Rain Dinners, and this time take advantage of room service.

The walk back to the giant casino was slowed down by more playful humor, inspired by a combination of their cruel whims. The air was dry and cool, and there were hardly any clouds in the sky that day, but Crocodile started it off by sending some sandy winds in the direction of a few guards. They watched the men get blown aside, and from that erupted another spark in Doflamingo. He pulled invisible strings, determined to impress and show up Crocodile by tripping a few people, forcing at-attention guards to break, and others to make fools of themselves. They proceeded onwards, snickering and laughing and daring the other to go just one step further, until they were finally at the entrance of the casino and people were begging Crocodile to do something about a group of tourists attempting to commit suicide by jumping into the bananadile-filled moat. “They get fed daily, don’t overdo it,” Crocodile said softly, and Doflamingo chuckled while he gently moved his fingers. After a few seconds of watching screaming men and women wobble over the edge of the moat, Crocodile yanked Doflamingo in by the arm, distracting him enough to break his hold. While sadly a few people ended up falling into infested waters, Doflamingo was pulled down to Crocodile's eye level, and as they listened to the sounds of screams and people jumping in to rescue panicked tourists, a powerful nostalgic feeling overtook Doflamingo as Crocodile stood up on his toes and kissed him on the lips.

What a year could do to a man. Crocodile was holding him down, grabbing his shirt so roughly Doflamingo could feel it getting wrinkled, not that he cared at all. He tasted that bitter and strong mixture of cognac and tobacco entering his mouth and felt his legs grow weak. Doflamingo couldn't remember the last time a kiss made him melt like that. Kissing in public had always been a rare occasion, something they shared when they were younger, on better days. Crocodile mashing his lips against his, parting them slowly and beckoning Doflamingo to do the same with the tickle of his hot breath, and him giving in to the demand without a moment’s hesitation, brought Doflamingo back to those wilder days without Dressrosa and secret plans.

Much like their last get-together, the memory of how they got to the bedroom was a blur, and Doflamingo could only recall the few words passed between them, most of them lewd and coming from the same lips that had him ready to get on all fours. He let Crocodile drag him to the bed, let obscene remarks sink in as they ripped each other’s clothes off, lips continuing to meet for brief and possessive kisses, hands only stopping the act of undressing in order to get some of those locks of hair out of Crocodile’s face.  

Crocodile looked at him and leaned into the touch of his hand. Always wearing significantly less than Crocodile, Doflamingo was already naked except for his shirt that Crocodile pulled down so it clung useless around his arms, and his left shoe that he kicked off now, not caring where it landed.Crocodile was still partly dressed, his layers having tons of buttons everywhere that were tiny and not made for impatient, greedy hands. The ascot and waistcoat were easy enough, quickly discarded, the shoes took a while, the pants not as much, and Doflamingo grew so _impatient_. They tried to get Crocodile’s shirt off together, giving up quickly when three hands weren’t getting the job done any better than just one, and eventually Doflamingo ripped the hook off of Crocodile with a grunt so he didn’t have to deal with the buttons anymore.

Crocodile chuckled, and the rest was done quickly in silence with closed eyes as they kissed each other. “Sorry about last night,” Crocodile eventually muttered against eager lips, sighing when they wandered to his cheeks, nipping at the white flesh of his scar.

Doflamingo made a vague noise. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I want to make up for it,” he heard Crocodile say, somewhere against his throat. His breath felt hot and steamy.

“You already did.”

He could tell Crocodile was about to talk more, but Doflamingo stopped him, bringing his mouth back down over his. He swallowed his voice as he grabbed him by the hips to hoist him further into the bed so his head was properly on the pillow. Crocodile let him, severed arm pressing against the mattress as his hand grabbed the sheets. Doflamingo ran his large hand down his body, starting from his neck and down to his chest, fingers filling the ridges between Crocodile’s muscles, tickling the black hair beneath his navel and rubbed the palm over his already erect cock before grabbing it for a tug, basking in the visible reaction he got. “This looks better than yesterday,” he commented with a smug grin up to Crocodile.

According to Crocodile’s groan, he agreed. “What are you gonna do?” he asked, watching Doflamingo intently from half-closed eyes.

“I don’t know yet,” Doflamingo said with a content grin, rubbing his thumb over the head of Crocodile’s erection, basking in how wet it already felt. “But after today, I feel very generous. And it was such a nice view to have you suck me off like that…”

“I was getting real tired of getting stabbed while you slept,” Crocodile said, his complain mock as it could be.

“I bet you were,” he cooed, placing a few lazy kisses on Crocodile’s heaving stomach and down to his cock, trailing his tongue from base to top, lapping up his taste with a hiss from Crocodile overhead. “Lube?” he asked, without turning his attention away from Crocodile.

“Bathroom,” Crocodile answered, sounding lazy. Doflamingo raised his head with a sigh.

“You’re really gonna make me go to the bathroom?”

Crocodile chuckled a little and sprawled out on the bed. “You said you feel generous.”

“I hate myself for being so goddamn nice to you,” Doflamingo said before leaving the bed. He felt Crocodile’s gaze linger on his naked form as he made it to the bathroom, heard him give idle instructions where to look. He found the stupid bottle and came back to the bed and a warm embrace waiting for him. “Promise me you’ll ride me sometime this week,” he said into a kiss, spreading lube into his hand, warming it up between his fingers before reaching down. Crocodile tensed up just a little but relaxed quickly, legs spread to the side and feet pressing into the mattress as Doflamingo pushed a finger inside.

“I can ride you tonight,” he offered, the change in his voice very subtle when Doflamingo moved his finger.

He shook his head. “Not now. I want to pamper you a little.”

Crocodile chuckled, breath hitching when Doflamingo pushed another finger inside and did all but pamper him; greedy and impatient but oh so _good_ , and Doflamingo watched as Crocodile huffed and threw his head back, chest heaving and ringed fingers curling around the sheets. This _really_ was better than yesterday. The desire almost ate him up, but he didn’t want to spoil this by being greedy.

“You really are a hopeless romantic, Doffy,” Crocodile said.

Doflamingo saw a smile form at the corner of Crocodile’s mouth. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he stared at him, thinking that he would indeed give half his country just to have Crocodile always like this, and possess him in all his entity.

With a little bit of shifting Doflamingo took him, wrapping his arms around Crocodile’s back, and claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss. “Wrap your legs around me,” he muttered against his lips. When Crocodile made an inquiring sound he quietly asked him again, and when Crocodile finally did he heaved them both up. Crocodile grunted a little, and settled with a soft noise on Doflamingo’s lap.

“I’m getting mixed signals here,” Crocodile said, the sly smile still on his lips, and pushed his hair from his forehead, left arm wrapped around Doflamingo’s neck.

“Well,” Doflamingo said, easing his grip around Crocodile to run his hands down his body to his hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his skin, “I’m still gonna fuck you, but I want to get to see you while I do.”

“Oh, so I’ll still be pampered then?” Crocodile held himself upright on his knees, and Doflamingo leaned back just enough to look him over, licking his lips hungrily. Crocodile leaned back to rest his hand on Doflamingo’s knee, moving his hips just to rile him up.

“Don’t pretend you’re not eager to have my cock,” he said, snickering when his hands rested on Crocodile’s rear. He gave the older man’s buttocks a firm squeeze and felt his smile stretch further when he saw and felt Crocodile jerk on top of him.

“And here I was, getting worried that you were falling out of your usual character,” Crocodile remarked, looking over his shoulder and trying to catch sight of Doflamingo’s hands massaging tensed muscles. He felt fingers pressed against him, growing hot and moist as Doflamingo rubbed and spread the lube over his hot erection. Crocodile felt the head of the penis, now covered in oils, being held and situated so that it was just underneath him.

“Move up a bit,” Doflamingo said, using one of his arms to lean back on as he waited for Crocodile to comply. He watched Crocodile hoist himself up, his cock aching at the sound of the man’s heavy exhale. He had Crocodile wrapped around him, could feel sweat rolling down his warm chest, could see the anticipation in his eyes, the hunger all over those parted lips.

They didn’t break eye contact when Doflamingo pushed inside. Crocodile’s arm was still hooked around his neck, and his fingers dug into Doflamingo’s shoulder. He could see Crocodile narrow his eyes, nostrils flaring when he endured it. Doflamingo held him, and closed the distance between them with a kiss to Crocodile’s open mouth. Doflamingo smiled against Crocodile’s parted lips, knowing just how intense every move must have felt to Crocodile. He felt him shift his weight and press his hips forward, muscles in his thighs twitching when he did. Doflamingo had to grab his hips just to keep him still.

“Lay down,” Crocodile demanded, voice close to being agitated. It made Doflamingo chuckle, and just hold on tighter as he shook his head.

“Don’t think just because you’re sitting on top you get to order me around,” he cooed, and despite Crocodile’s bemused huff just kissed him again. “I’ll have you ride my cock properly later, and watch you do all the work. Not tonight though. Now hold still.”

He knew Crocodile wasn’t big on following orders, so it delighted him when Crocodile settled back down, expression still skeptical, but relenting.

Theyweren’t particularly deep thrusts, nor were they rough or painful for that matter. But Crocodile felt Doflamingo push into him, hold on to him to keep his movement at a minimum as he sank in deeper inside, only to stop less than midway and pull out. Crocodile stared right into Doflamingo’s eyes, watching the man’s immediate reaction as he slid back inside of him, his strained smile a combination of pleasure and entertainment. Crocodile could easily imagine why. Doflamingo was slow going in and out, and he could feel each inch ease back into him, experience every jerk and twitch of his cock as it rubbed across sensitive nerves. He saw every twitch of muscle in Doflamingo’s brow, the narrowing eyes, felt every hot breath of air against his own wet lips.

The slow fucking wasn’t something he was entirely accustomed to, and the position they were in only made it worse. Doflamingo wouldn't stop touching him _everywhere_. He only had one free hand, but somehow it was all over Crocodile, hand sliding up his spine with delicate pets, hesitating only when Doflamingo temporarily ceased in order to prolong the sex. Fingers rubbed against the back of his neck, rising higher till they clung around his roots, pulling and tugging as Doflamingo gave a rough jerk. Crocodile winced and gasped, his arms wrapping tighter around the larger man’s frame, clinging on as though his life might depend on it.

Though they were no longer staring at one another, Crocodile resting his head on Doflamingo’s shoulder now, there was little he could do to distract himself from the overbearing sensations that arose each time one of them moved. He hated to think that Doflamingo filled him up entirely now. With his hand rubbing over his body and his hot breath against his ear, making him shudder and want to pull away, only to be pressed closer: it was almost too much. They were making so many sounds. Considering what Crocodile was used to, he almost thought they were being pathetic. This wasn’t rough fucking. This was too slow. It was too sensual. And this wasn’t like him. He was never this loud, and he never held on to Doflamingo so dearly, legs spread and wrapped around him while he happily took each slow thrust from him. He didn’t want Doflamingo to have this much power over him, but at the same time the overwhelming feeling of having him back wouldn’t go away.

Doflamingo must’ve sensed how he felt, because he was chuckling softly, out of breath and voice raspy next to his ear, pressing kisses to his cheek. But he said nothing, and that was maybe the worst of it all, because they weren’t even talking anymore at this point. There was just too much going on, and Crocodile wished Doflamingo would taunt and tease him so he had a reason to growl at him. Instead, all he got were more gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders, and Doflamingo’s arms wrapped around him, grabbing and kneading eagerly every inch of naked skin while he had his way with him.

When Crocodile tensed up with his imminent orgasm and everything slowed down, Doflamingo leaned back, grabbing Crocodile’s face with both hands. “Look at me,” he murmured, eyes shining in the dark light of the bedroom. Crocodile fought the urge to close his eyes, staring at Doflamingo as he came, and every thought inside of him died away for a few seconds.

Doflamingo held Crocodile, his body feeling so heavy now that he didn't think he could keep it upright any longer. Body still shaking and twitching, he didn't object when Doflamingo grinned and toppled them over, coming to rest on top of him.

“No hands,” Doflamingo chuckled. “Look how much you enjoyed this. Didn’t I promise I’d pamper you?”

Crocodile muttered a sound, arms wrapping lazily around Doflamingo’s shoulders, and stared up to the ceiling without really seeing anything. Doflamingo held him close as he finished inside of him, his sounds muffled in the bend of his neck and the pillow underneath.

They remained like this for a while as Doflamingo caught his breath. Crocodile could feel him twitch and the muscles of his shoulders move. Eventually the ragged panting and moaning died away. Doflamingo shifted a little and slipped out without moving too much, and Crocodile didn’t care at all about the mess that remained.

Doflamingo fell down to the mattress beside him, mouthing a few kisses on Crocodile’s shoulder. Crocodile lifted his hand to run his hand through Doflamingo’s hair. “Today was nice,” Doflamingo said, almost intelligible against his damp skin. He hummed an affirmative noise and looked over at Doflamingo nuzzling his face against his shoulder. It was the best time he’d had in… well… maybe since that one week he had spent in Dressrosa. He did enjoy Alubarna’s festival and he did enjoy bullying Cobra, but it wasn’t the same. Had this been Cobra, he would already have slipped away and put it behind himself.

He sighed under his breath. Doflamingo must have took that as a sign of endearment, because he snuggled closer. “Wasn’t it?” he asked softly, needy for confirmation as ever.

“Yes,” Crocodile admitted, and again Doflamingo’s chuckle made his throat go tight. How different would things have been, he wondered again, if he had just allowed Doflamingo to come over for his birthday, and spent the festival with him?

Would he feel better now?

* * *

 

When Doflamingo woke he thought it was a shame that Crocodile wasn’t all over him. He hoped it might happen again, but he knew yesterday had been an exception. But maybe he would be lucky and Crocodile still felt awful enough to do it again when asked. He turned, thinking he would do whatever he had to get Crocodile have sex with him this morning _before_ breakfast, only to find the spot next to him empty.

He blinked. The sheets were cold. This was unusual, most of the time Doflamingo woke way before him. “What the hell,” he muttered under his breath as he sat up to rub his eyes, wiping away the remains of sleep. “Crocodile?” he called half-heartedly, staring at the lack of yesterday’s clothes on the floor. Crocodile hadn’t only been up already, he was feeling antsy. Something was up. He threw his coat around himself, the feathers offering some comfort as he left the bedroom to see where Crocodile was.

He found him at his desk, washed and dressed, albeit lightly. Although it didn’t surprise him, he was still irritated by it. “What happened to sucking up to me?” he asked as he walked over. Crocodile was a little too quick in putting something into his desk drawer. Doflamingo made a mental note.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Crocodile said.

“You didn’t care about that yesterday.”

Crocodile grinned. It happened too quickly. Doflamingo frowned back in return.

“So what’s up?” he asked as he pulled up a chair to fall down opposite him, stretching his legs out and not caring that his coat fell in gentle disarray. At least Crocodile noticed. Good.

“Business,” Crocodile said easily, moving some insignificant items on his desk like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I put everything on hold yesterday so things have piled up.”

“In a single day? You’re not exactly ruling this country, Croc. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Not yet, no. But progress is in need for careful planning, you know that.” Crocodile got up from his chair, and Doflamingo followed him with his eyes. “Do you want to go out for breakfast again?” Crocodile asked, changing the subject.

Doflamingo continued to stare quietly at him. Crocodile was a little too quick in wanting to up and away from the desk if he really planned on working. For someone who was once so stubborn in getting the job done, enough to forbid him from visiting, Crocodile was being unusually appealing in his behavior.

“No,” Doflamingo said with a pout. “I want to go back to bed and fuck you. Stop ruining my vacation.”

Crocodile lifted an eyebrow. “Ruin? I got up a little early to have your clothes cleaned and to get some work done while you slept. I think I’m being very congenial. But fine, if you’re gonna be a pain in the ass about it, I won’t do it again.”

Doflamingo stood and walked over to Crocodile, grabbing him by the arm to pull him closer. “I want you to be good and behave.”

“I was never good to begin with,” Crocodile countered.

“You know what I mean,” Doflamingo said, placing one hand on Crocodile’s back to keep him close and raising the other up to Crocodile’s head to run it through his hair. He could see Crocodile’s eyelid twitch, but he endured it and blew a few loose strands of his hair away from his face. “You shouldn’t have bothered with dressing,” Doflamingo said under his breath, hand moving to grab Crocodile’s chin to lift it up to him.

Crocodile looked at him without answering for a while. Finally, he relented and let Doflamingo win, rolling his eyes, but grinning all the while. “Not in the mood for a striptease? Alright.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “After being such a disappointment in the morning, you _should_ make up for it.”

“Yes, I seem to have to do that a lot, don’t I?” Crocodile muttered, finally pushing Doflamingo away. “Go shower, I’ll get us breakfast up here and I’ll see if I can’t humor you a little.”

Doflamingo was a little suspicious and wanted to stay mad, but in the end their little disagreement was quickly made up when Crocodile so generously offered himself up before breakfast, just like Doflamingo wanted him to. And he did it again later, after a long day of them making the most of the lavish gambling city. Much like the day before, Crocodile submitted to Doflamingo all of his attention, and was more than generous when it came to spending money and time with him. Doflamingo felt silly for getting upset in the morning. After all, what was waking up alone in bed when Crocodile was supplying himself for the rest of the day? Doflamingo was being entertained like he deserved to be, and that was all that mattered.

The following morning, Doflamingo made a point not to stir when he was awoken early, the sheets moving when Crocodile slipped out of bed. Doflamingo stared into the darkness and watched him leave the room. After a long night of them using each other up, Doflamingo decided to let Crocodile do a bit of work till the sun rose. A couple hours later and he reappeared, and this time it was still early enough for Doflamingo to feign surprise and pretend to be wakened by Crocodile’s presence.

The next few days went on like this. Crocodile would get out of bed early in the morning and leave to get some work done. He’d arrive back a few hours later, looking tired and slightly anxious, but otherwise determined to keep Doflamingo pleased for the rest of the day. They’d go out, visit landmarks, museums and sacred buildings just to cause a ruckus, and then make a bigger scene just so each could prove he was capable of getting away with it. They got into buildings for free and exploited the local entertainment, Crocodile going all-out to show off the power he amassed.

“Still think this island is nothing more than sand and rock?” Crocodile asked him one day. Was it before they entered one of the giant casinos, after watching some play, or during their traversing through some gardens? Doflamingo couldn’t remember, but the remark did force a chuckle out of him, and rather cocky smirk from Crocodile.

They continued making the most of each other’s company, going out and spending their time drinking, gambling, and making merry.

There was a slight change in Crocodile on the fifth day. Doflamingo expected that Crocodile would grow weary after days of playing a good host to him. And he did comment that he was not in the mood to go out, though it seemed to have little to do with fatigue. Doflamingo summed up Crocodile’s reluctance as a combined result of stress from work and trying to humor him for so long. Robin pulling Crocodile aside to speak privately while he continued to drink and torment the staff assured him this might be it. Crocodile going mostly silent for the rest of the night supported his case. Doflamingo wasn’t even irked by Crocodile’s hesitation, and decided to be grateful and let him rest, hoping a night without too much activity would be enough to help Crocodile stress down.

When he awoke Crocodile was gone, as usual. But this time Crocodile didn’t show up for breakfast, and instead sent Robin to alert him that Doflamingo would eat alone. Something had come up, he was told. It was a poor excuse on Crocodile’s part, and Doflamingo took offense to be given this news through a subordinate. He refrained from making a scene and decided to wait it out, infuriated but otherwise very eager to hear what explanation Crocodile would come up with.

There was a change in Alabasta on the sixth day. The people were happy to spend their money in the casino and at the gift shops, but Doflamingo was sure he was getting more than his fair share of looks from the guards. No, he was positive he was getting a lot of nasty, suspicious stares from the royal guards. They seemed on edge, and whenever he passed a pair he knew two sets of eyes were on him, watching his every move, and making a point to show their disapproval in his very existence. They knew better than to approach him, but it didn’t stop Doflamingo from wondering about it.

Crocodile showed his face after lunch, and there was no hiding his distraught as he approached the seat across from Doflamingo.

“Well, well,” Doflamingo muttered. He leaned back in his chair as Crocodile made his way closer, his every step hesitant. Crocodile didn’t bother hiding how uncomfortable he looked. Doflamingo was affected enough to second-guess how to approach the issue. “You wanna let me in on what’s going on?”

Crocodile stopped in front of the empty chair and rested his hand on it, but he didn’t take his seat. “Did you get something for your family?” he asked carefully.

“Why does _that_ matter?” With more than half the day gone, Doflamingo expected a impressive excuse to accompany Crocodile, not some stupid question.

Crocodile stared at Doflamingo, and for the first time since his arrival Doflamingo could see just how exhausted the man appeared. Like the last week hadn’t been a vacation at all. “Something’s come up,” he answered. “A statewide emergency, and while I can assure you that you’re in no position of trouble, I think it would be best if you left early.” Crocodile made a short pause, before adding, “today.”

Doflamingo uncrossed his legs as the words began to sink in, and even then he still didn’t believe what he had heard. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just as upset as you are about this,” Crocodile said, lowering his head enough for Doflamingo to miss out on his expression. “Believe me, this is the last thing I want to say to you right now.”

“Then stop?” Doflamingo remarked. He had tried to sound sarcastic, but failed.

Crocodile looked him in the eye and frowned. “I apologize for ruining your last day.” His hand gripped the seat so tight Doflamingo could hear the wooden frame creak.

“You haven’t ruined it yet,” Doflamingo said, forcing his lips upward in a small, but worried smile. He wasn’t expecting Crocodile to be so polite about it. He didn’t even anticipate an apology to begin with. “You’re getting rather close to it, but…the last few days have left me in a rather forgiving mood.” Doflamingo leaned forward, looking up at Crocodile, waiting for him to drop the act and replace that sullen look with anything else.

Crocodile lifted his shoulder up, prepared to shrug at him, but halted halfway. “I’m sorry, Doflamingo.” He remained frozen in this state for a few seconds before removing his hand from the chair, standing stiffly before him. “I’ve already asked several employees to deliver the merchandise you’ve purchased to your ship. Personal belongings aside, everything should be packed and ready for departure in a few hours.”

It took Doflamingo several seconds to register that what he was hearing was real. Crocodile was halfway out of the door when he realized Crocodile had failed to provide a reason for this sudden change.

“Wait, why am I leaving?” Doflamingo asked.

Crocodile stopped and looked over his shoulder, staring cautiously at Doflamingo. The eye contact was appreciated, but Doflamingo found it disbarring to have to stare mostly at the man’s backside. “Something happened at the palace. I cannot say, but it has put the royals in a state of panic,” he answered. “I’ve assured them you’ve nothing to do with the current situation, but I’d rather have you out of the country before things get out of hand.”

He left right after, giving Doflamingo no time to inquire further on the matter, though asking Crocodile questions was the last thing on his mind. He was still finding it difficult to accept the last few minutes.

At first Doflamingo hadn’t bothered to connect Crocodile’s odd behavior to the royal guards, but as the day persisted and Doflamingo watched the staff hurry and collect his things, and was later informed that he had a special ride waiting for him to send him to his ship post haste, the same suspicion he had garnered yesterday was once again on the rise. The pain of rejection was replaced with bitter frustration as he approached the carriage that would take him to his ship, the occasional glance from passing Alabastan soldiers only adding insult to injury.

Crocodile arrived to see him off. There was something in the pitch of his voice that told him he wasn’t the only one shaken by this development. Doflamingo had liked Crocodile’s submissive and pleading behavior all this past week, but now it was just reassuring him that something was very wrong, and not knowing what it was drove him almost mad.

“This is as far as I can accompany you,” Crocodile said, stepping in and reaching for Doflamingo’s coat, brushing over the feathers like in an awkward attempt to right his disheveled state. “I’ve arranged for everything. You should be on your ship in two hours, less if nothing goes wrong.”

“And you?” Doflamingo asked, grabbing Crocodile’s hand. “What are you gonna do?”

Crocodile hesitated and sighed. “Actually, I'm not sure. The situation is... peculiar.”

“No shit.” Doflamingo grimaced. “This sucks, Crocodile. I don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave, either. But please do me the favor. Everything will be worse if you stay.” The worry in Crocodile’s eyes was so out of character. It was infuriating, but for now the only thing that kept him from making a scene.

“Yeah, well,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve already moved all my stuff, so I can’t stay, yeah? Smart move.”

“Like you’d have a problem with being naked and embarrassing me,” Crocodile countered.

“True,” Doflamingo said, dipping his head down for a kiss to Crocodile's lips. Crocodile’s hand rested on his neck as he did, and he kept him close for a second longer when Doflamingo wanted to pull away.

It meant something. Again, it was a kiss in public, and Doflamingo knew people were watching.

“You be good,” he said, voice low when they parted. “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do. And fucking _call_ every now and then.”

“I will,” Crocodile said. He hesitated. Doflamingo raised his eyebrows and waited. Finally, Crocodile sighed. “I’m sorry, Doffy,” he admitted. He avoided looking up at the mirrored sunglasses, staring off to the side of Doflamingo’s face. He sounded genuine. The nickname only made it worse. What the hell was going on?

Doflamingo felt sick to his stomach, but all he could manage was laughter. “Stop being such a pussy, Crocodile. You’re gonna make me cry. Instead of apologizing, you should promise that next time will be better. You owe me a visit during rainy season, at _least_.” He could tell Crocodile was going to say something. He made sure he didn’t with another quick kiss. “I’ll see you around,” he said, grinning down at him before stepping away and into the carriage.

As he made his way to the Sandora River, Doflamingo thought more about Crocodile and couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling about the entire day. Everything seemed to be connected. Crocodile’s insistence to get “work” done in the early hours of the morning when he clearly had enough staff to run the casino for a week without his supervision. The guards’ growing suspicion. How every day, right on the fucking dot, Nico Robin would show her face, often enough to interrupt his attempt to woo and get into Crocodile’s pants, and always with that concerned look on her face, saying, “boss, another call,” or “boss, a word!” Doflamingo was almost certain she did it only to spite him, because _always_ , Crocodile would sigh and slip away, leaving Doflamingo alone. Sure, he was never gone long, but still…what was more important than _his_ vacation?

What had happened at the palace that warranted Crocodile knowing about the matter?

Why did someone feel the need to inform him, a pirate, on the issues that were best left private?

Taking over this rotten island shouldn’t be that much of a hassle, not for someone as powerful, determined and cunning as Crocodile. Doflamingo had let him run and play because he knew he couldn’t keep Crocodile on a short leash. Crocodile wanted to have his own country? Fine. Doflamingo would let him believe he was free to do as he pleased. Crocodile could do whatever the hell he wanted, as long as it didn’t affect Doflamingo.

Now it was starting to affect him.

* * *

 

Crocodile couldn’t believe what happened even as he sat in the royal palace a few hours later, watching Cobra pace around him in circles.

Princess Vivi was gone, along with her the supervisor, Igaram. Crocodile would have thought it hilarious, had it not ruined his entire week. The first day was easy enough to dismiss. “She’s a rowdy kid,” he told Cobra on the phone. “I’m sure she’s just playing somewhere. Wait until tomorrow.”

And then tomorrow arrived, and the princess did not. Cobra grew more and more anxious and wanted Crocodile to do something, but he had a clingy Doflamingo to entertain and couldn’t just leave to find a runaway princess. He tried to manage, but he knew he would end up upsetting one of them.

He upset them both. Crocodile didn’t have to see the veins on Doflamingo’s forehead to know he had pissed him off. He didn’t have to see Cobra's knit brows to know how much the man was disappointed in his behavior this past week.

Now he had to deal with what was left. “If there is still no word of ransom I’m sure she’s fine,” he told Cobra, trying to be patient and understanding while his mind was still busy being guilty over sending Doflamingo away prematurely. But the second he had heard someone whisper about the Heavenly Demon behind his back he knew Doflamingo couldn’t stay.

Cobra sighed, raising his arms in a wide gesture before they fell down to his sides again. “I don’t understand,” he said, voice shaking with grief. “Of course, as princess and heir, she’s always in danger, but we never left her unsupervised. How could this have happened?”

Crocodile half-shrugged, reminding himself to appear as invested as possible. “And you don’t think she ran off with your supervisor? It is a bit odd that they both went missing the same day, isn’t it?”

“I can only imagine he went after her... Or they were taken together.” Cobra finished walking around in circles and proceeded to stare out of the window. “Crocodile, I’m... I don’t know what to do. She is all I have left. I promised her mother I would take care of her. I promised...”

Crocodile knew he had to do something. It was in his best interest to get the brat back to her father. She wouldn't be hard to track down, not with Baroque Works looking for her. If he returned Princess Vivi, he figured, Cobra would lick his shoes.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” he said, rising from his seat to walk over to where Cobra was standing. Crocodile stopped an arm’s length away from him, staring at the back of Cobra’s head. “But I’m sure it’s nothing. If someone had taken her, what would be the point without ransom or blackmail? So that can't be it. She’s a teenager... Surely she just ran away. Spending time with her plebeian friends, I’d wager.” He paused as he watched Cobra’s shoulders rise and sink again in a deep sigh.

“About your guest—” he started, but Crocodile interrupted him before he could even go there.

“He has nothing to do with it and is not informed about the matter either. He’s the least of _your_ concerns, believe me, Your Majesty.”

Cobra sighed again. Crocodile wondered why everyone was so quick to blame Doflamingo, and not, say, himself. They were both in exact the same position.But it was pleasing to know the people of Alabasta, the king included, trusted him so much.

“Surely you remember what it’s like to be her age,” he added. He stared at the king's quivering shoulders and wondered what it would be like to put his hand there, raising it halfway. “You were young once.”

“True, and quite possibly not as well behaved as her,” Cobra said, forcing himself to a low chuckle. He turned around, and Crocodile pulled his hand in again. “You’re right as usual, I guess. She’s a wild kid. It’s probably nothing. And she has Carue and Igaram with her. I should trust all three of them instead of being worried.”

“She comes from a strong family, Your Majesty,” Crocodile said with a grin he knew wasn’t quite honest, but Cobra turned his head and returned it nevertheless, looking pleasantly surprised and a little proud. He was even easier to sweet-talk than Doflamingo, Crocodile thought, probably because Doflamingo _knew_ when he was lying.

“It’s very unusual for you to say these kinds of things,” Cobra said.

Crocodile forced himself not to get anxious. “It probably is,” he admitted. “It’s true enough though. I find all Nefertaris to be very... interesting.” It wasn’t even a lie, although he certainly didn't mean it the way Cobra would interpret it.

“Thank you,” Cobra said with a smile that almost made Crocodile roll his eyes. After his week with Doflamingo and being himself for a while, dealing with Cobra felt like such a chore. Crocodile missed Doflamingo already, and frowned at himself for even thinking it.

Again, Cobra was awful in reading him. “Now, don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said, taking a step toward Crocodile to gently pet him on his arm. Crocodile nearly flinched and drew away, but got ahold of himself quickly enough. “You paid me a compliment, but nobody was around to hear it. No one will think less of you. Relax.”

Crocodile inhaled. The king was telling _him_ to relax now? “Keep Vivi’s disappearance from the public for now,” he said. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good if it got public. People might get... _ideas_.”

Cobra’s smile faltered. “It would, wouldn’t it,” he said slowly. Crocodile noticed his hand was still on his sleeve, fingers slowly rubbing the fabric. “I suppose you’re right... I don’t want people to worry, either.”

Crocodile nodded like he actually gave a damn. “Exactly,” he said, stepping away from Cobra’s presence. “Well, I must be off.”

Cobra looked surprised. “You’re leaving already?”

“You want me to look for your daughter, don’t you?” Crocodile said on his way out.

Cobra nodded quickly, folding his hands on front of his body as he watched Crocodile leave. “Yes, of course,” he said, and Crocodile could tell from his tone that he would also have wanted some company in these trying hours.

* * *

 

Doflamingo reclined into his seat, basking in the sun’s rays.

It was a nice, sunny day on Dressrosa, and the Donquixote family chose to spend the day with the recently retuned king at the castle.

Doflamingo had arrived late at night. His return was unexpected. Doflamingo had plenty of time to inform his family of his return, but decided to keep quiet about it. He did it on purpose, and made no effort to hide his disappointment when he docked underneath the city. He didn’t need to say a word to his officers. The moment he stepped foot on the pebbled flooring they all knew something was up, and spread the word throughout the family to keep things nice and tranquil as possible for the next days.

Their king desired rest.

“Doffy!” Diamante yelled out. Doflamingo blinked and raised his head up slightly, looking over in the direction of his officer. “Drinks. What are you in the mood for?”

He watched Dellinger and Baby 5 run up to Diamante, laughing out their requests, and he turned and stared at the rest of his family, everyone happy and entertained with drinks, food and games. The weather was pleasant: it seemed as though there was a nice breeze whenever the sun’s heat became too much. The air tasted like his favorite citruses, squeezed out and saturated in summer island’s sweetness. There were gorgeous women everywhere, offering their services to anyone who asked.

Everybody was so glad to have him back. He had been gone barely longer than a week, but they all acted like they hadn’t seen him in years. Baby 5 had cried when she had first seen him again. The officers were obviously happy to have him back too, each in his own way. Monet hadn’t commented on his vacation much at all, but he could see it in her eyes. In every other scenario, he would be so glad, but not this time.

“Doffy?” Now it was Pica. “Would you like anything?”

Doflamingo lowered his shades, looking both officers in the eyes before forcing a grin. “Whatever is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I trust you guys.” Doflamingo waved a hand before sinking back into place. He heard his name being laughed out by a few members and rested a hand on his forehead.

Since he’d come back, Doflamingo played out his week’s stay at Alabasta in his head. The events repeated in the back of his mind until he had to force himself to stop because he was getting a migraine. His officers did their best to keep him distracted, but there was only so much booze and good music could do.

Doflamingo required so much more.

“Doffy.” A large shadow cast over him. Doflamingo paid no mind and continued to stare out at the colorful scene before him. “I got what you were looking for,” he heard Trebol whisper.

Doflamingo blinked, feeling the man’s hot breath rest on the side of his face. On a normal day he would tolerate Trebol’s presence, but today was an exception. He felt the officer crouching closer to him and smiled, eagerly awaiting to hear what Trebol would say next.

“I have the boys downstairs working to create new identities for the hired help,” Trebol went on, chucking every word. “They’ll arrive on Alabasta as citizens.” Trebol’s large hand rested on Doflamingo’s shoulder. “What’s more, I plan on sending some to work in the palace.”

“As servants?” Doflamingo asked.

“Worked with Monet,” Trebol answered with a nod. “But I was also thinking hiring them out as guards. But if this king is as trusting as the reports say he is, then it should be easy to get the information you desire, maid or a loyal guard.”

“If it’s there to begin with,” Doflamingo corrected. As much as he appreciated Trebol’s efforts this was one of the few times he hoped nothing would come up.

“Oh, but of course, Doffy!” Trebol reassured, even going as far as to remove himself from Doflamingo.

“What up, gentlemen?” Doflamingo raised his head up again and spotted Diamante and Pica walking up to him and Trebol, drinks in their hands. “A little something-something for His Majesty,” Diamante said, offering Doflamingo a colorful drink. “And Trebol, Pica’s got you your favorite.”

“Is everything set up, Trebol?” Pica asked as quietly as he could, trying not to catch any of the other family member’s attention.  

“Doffy and I were just talking about it,” Trebol replied, taking his drink from Pica. “If everything goes as planned we should have a dozen agents infiltrating Baroque Works and the royal family by the end of the month.”

“Excellent!” Diamante cackled.

Pica shoved Diamante. “No, not good,” he growled. Before Diamante could retaliate, Pica pointed a finger over at Doflamingo, reminding his fellow officer the reason for the planned infiltration.

Doflamingo sat himself up, crossing a leg over the other before bringing the straw to his mouth. Crocodile’s greatest flaw was his inability to trust others. Although he possessed information on all of his subordinates, he made no effort to learn anything more than their history and capabilities. Even Nico Robin, whose job it was to relay information out to all the officers working to extend Baroque Work’s power, never met a single agent face-to-face. Crocodile considered it a strength to not have to rely or worry about others, but not knowing your employees too well left a lot of wiggle room for double agents to sneak in.

Whatever Crocodile might be hiding from him, Doflamingo would soon figure out. Though there was no guarantee he’d learn anything directly from him, he would at least be able to rely on his men to supply him with information about what was going on in the country. With Donquixote pirates in Baroque Works and in the Alabastan military, Doflamingo could ensure that any secrets Crocodile was hiding from him would soon be out of the dark.

He took a long sip, letting his mouth fill with a strong, tangy mixture of sweet syrups and alcohol. With the hot sun above, and the occasional cool breeze, the drink should have been more than welcoming. He just got back from a vacation. The family was awarding him with all the attention he could ask for. Business was good. He should be enjoying this moment.

Instead, he was scheming with his men.

He placed his drink down before looking up at his surrounding agents, the apparent frown on his face causing them to step back or look away. “Well, don’t I just have the worst luck?” he asked sarcastically before forcing out yet another strained grin.

He hated that he had to do this. But there was a line of what he would tolerate, even from someone like Crocodile.


End file.
